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certaimromance · 3 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 Cherry Picking.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After your first night with Spencer, you wake up and see that he's left you two dollars and a thank-you note on your bedside table.

Words: 2,3k.

TW: lots of mentions and references to sex, but nothing completely explicit. the reader is quite dramatic and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This idea just came to me out of the blue, and I have to say that Sex and the City has had a bit of an influence. I love the chaos, the conversations between friends, and Spencer being the best man in the world (I'm picturing him kind of like in his season four version).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Saturday afternoon

“Two dollars?!”

Penelope's and JJ's simultaneous exclamations and surprised faces when you finished speaking were pretty much to be expected. They noticed a change in your expression and took a moment to compose themselves, as did the rest of the people in the room, who glanced curiously at your table from time to time. It was certainly a fascinating sight, three women having an animated conversation about their lives over milkshakes as if they were drinks, especially considering that one of them was pregnant and her belly looked like it was about to explode.

You didn't blame anyone for reacting that way, especially not your friends. You were still pretty shocked by what happened, especially by how thoughtless the man you'd developed feelings for and worked closely with over the past few years was. It was a unsettling to find a tip on your nightstand after one of the most memorable nights you'd ever had. You still remembered the excitement you felt when you went to Spencer's apartment yesterday to watch a movie as part of your fourth or fifth date. He seemed nervous when you started kissing more intensely, and the couch wasn't the best setting. The sensation of your body on his bed and his lips on your skin was incredible.

It was a good memory, extremely good if you took away the embarrassment of waking up the next day in his empty bed with money waiting for you, as if you had performed a service.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the money was left on the table by mistake.” Jennifer spoke again in a reassuring tone after turning the matter over. “Spencer can be a little clumsy sometimes.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you listened to her attempt to provide an explanation for his actions. But given their friendship, this was to be expected.

“And he was in a hurry to catch his plane and go to his mother.” Garcia added with a forced smile, trying to lift your spirits. “It all makes sense.”

Yes, it was understandable that he was leaving in a hurry because he had to catch a flight to spend his weekend off with his mother. That didn't worry you, but there was something else that was curious.

“How do you explain the thank-you note?” You asked, taking out the paper and the two dollars you'd pulled out to show them as proof from your purse.

“It was a thank you for hanging out with him, a sweet gesture.” JJ said, taking a sip of her milkshake and patting her belly.

It seemed more like a sour gesture to you, that you had been left with your dignity on the floor. As you left his apartment, you didn't know whether to cry or laugh because it sounded like a bad joke that the only man you thought was decent and for whom you allowed yourself to have feelings would do such a thing.

“My love life is going downhill.” You said.

Just then, the restaurant door opens and Emily appears. After greeting her and apologizing for her late arrival, she asks about the cause of your apparent distress. As a profiler, she was astute enough to know something was wrong just by looking at you.

“What's wrong, honey?” She started talking as soon as she sat down next to you and took a quick look at the table. “Those milkshakes look good, I want one.”

“Spencer thinks I'm a prostitute.” You spoke up without thinking, which surprised Emily and caused her to briefly lose her grip on the menu.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Perhaps you were too direct in saying something that you had been trying to ignore for your own mental health.

“Just a heads-up, we've got a baby in the room. No need to say that word!” Penelope was the first to speak, gently covering JJ's belly with her hands. “He can hear you.”

At that moment, Reid and his comments about pregnancy data at every stage came to mind. You felt a little uncomfortable because you knew it was a little unrealistic to focus on the positives at a time like this.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby.” You looked regretfully at your friends and spoke to Jennifer's belly, giving it a gentle caress. “Don't listen.”

“I need context, please.” Emily said confusedly, trying to understand what was going on and why you had said what you had said.

You let out a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the story once more.

“Okay, Spencer and I made...milkshakes. Very good milkshakes, really good if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain slowly, watching your words and your friends' expressions. “I woke up when he was leaving, he gave me a kiss on my forehead and said to keep sleeping, that he had to catch his flight.”

“That's sweet, but weird to know.” Emily commented quizzically, looking at the menu intently again. “What's the part...you know?”

“Oh, when he thought I was-” You stop yourself as you see how JJ looks at you. “A pie maker.”

You could tell from their expressions that they were about to laugh at your attempts to keep the conversation friendly.

“I woke up hours later to find two dollars on the nightstand with a thank-you note.” You finished the story. “To him, I'm worth two fu...sugary dollars.”

Prentiss stared at you for several seconds, waiting for me to tell her it was a joke. Only when that didn't happen did she speak. “That sounds weird and awful, but I don't think he would do something like that on purpose. Especially you, he really likes you.”

“He likes me enough to give me two dollars.”

When you finished speaking, you experienced a moment of discomfort in your stomach as your own words took effect. You were surprised to find that on a deeper level, what had happened was causing you more pain than you had anticipated.

“That doesn't sound like Reid at all. I've known him for years, and he's not that kind of man.” Penelope said with a frown, trying to reassure you. “I'm sure it's a mix-up.”

You were looking for the same thing and hoping it was just a misunderstanding, but your previous bad experiences made you think otherwise. You'd met enough men to know that they could always be worse. What was different now was that you really liked this particular man. You really longed for him to be different from everyone else.

However, things weren't always as you'd hoped. You'd invested a lot of hope in making your fairy tale come true, and it was starting to take its toll.

“Have you had a chance to speak with him?” JJ inquired.

“He's with his mother, I won't bother him.” You replied with a strange simplicity that made your friends suspicious. “I'm fine, I've calmed down.” You added as you saw their worried faces.

“I love you, but sometimes you scare me.” Emily said, watching you drink from your smoothie as if it contained a painkiller. “It's not okay to pretend that everything's fine.”

“It's understandable to feel a bit discouraged about this. Things may seem challenging at the moment, but I believe things will improve when you discuss this with him.” Jennifer's hand gently touched yours, offering a comforting gesture.

“I'm sure everything will be fine. You have our support if you need it.” Penelope joined in with the motivational words and gave you a reassuring smile.

You took the last sip of your milkshake and leaned back in your seat for a moment before replying. “I'm fine, girls. I don't plan to lose my head over a man, I promised myself.”

They looked at you with some skepticism, but you didn't flinch. You were confident that if you were mentally prepared not to be defeated, or at least not to look defeated, you would be well prepared for the day of the meeting.

You weren't going to lose your mind over this.

Monday morning

You were definitely losing your mind, and no cup of tea or internet video that promised to do so had been able to relax you one bit. You had been cooped up in the office you shared with Penelope for several minutes, pacing in your chair while everyone in the conference room waited for information about a new case and your presence. The mere thought of having to face Reid again was making you feel pretty uneasy.

All weekend, you had been trying to reassure yourself that you were doing well, that you were not hurt or affected by what happened, that it was just one more disappointment to add to the long list you had written since you were a teenager, and that it was normal for someone with your luck. You were not a princess, you were not going to meet a prince, and you were old enough to know that.

But being in the same building as your prince turned toad was not as easy as you had hoped. You prayed that your presence would not be necessary and that the jet would soon take off to take them all away, especially him.

A few sudden knocks on the door startled you. You automatically thought it was your boss coming to scold you for being late, and your blood froze.

“I apologize for the delay, Hotch. I assure...” You spoke promptly as soon as the door opened and a male figure appeared.

But obviously, it wasn't him.

“Oh, sorry, I'm not Hotch. But hey, how are you?” Spencer smiled at you and walked toward you, looking a little nervous.

“Fine.” You replied dryly, getting up from your seat to grab your tablet and some folders to carry into the conference room.

In your mind, you had planned to make a scene as soon as you saw him and make it clear that you didn't cost just two dollars. But after thinking about it a lot, the fear of losing your job over it was greater. And now it was a mixture of that reasoning with your feeling of paralysis at actually having him in front of you.

“I...I missed you over the weekend.” He stopped you before you could walk away, gently holding your hand. The feeling alone made you stop and look at him angrily. “I thought about you a lot, too much, and I bought you something.” He let go of your hand to pull a small box out of his pocket.

“How dare you?” You blurt out, taking a step back.

He looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain. “I'm sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to impose. Did I cross a line? I'm so sorry, I just thought-”

“What? That you could embarrass me even more? Didn't I already go through enough?”

That's when you took out two dollars from your purse and gave it to him.

“Could I ask why this is?” Spencer was still frowning and looked just as hurt as you.

His apparent lack of understanding of the situation made you much angrier. You had thought he was probably the smartest man you had ever met in your entire life, but suddenly, in your eyes, he was an idiot.

“I'm refunding your payment, Reid.” You replied firmly, without hiding your frustration.

The confusion on his face seemed to multiply as he tried to understand. “What are you talking about? I gave you your money back.”

You tilted your head slightly to one side.

“Saturday morning, I left on the nightstand the two dollars you lent me a week ago when we bought coffee. You know I don't like being in debt.” Spencer began to explain calmly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and present the facts in a clear and concise manner.

Oh, you do remember lending him money at some point, or rather, inviting him for coffee that he said he'd pay you back. That day when his hair was perfect in the wind, when he smiled at you and told you some interesting facts about coffee beans.

“I mentioned it when I said goodbye, but you looked so tired that I left you a thank you note in case you forgot.” He went on to explain. “A lot of studies say that you wake up to full strength at least 20 to 30 minutes after you actually open your eyes. And you still had them closed when I said goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I...I thought you-” You fell silent as you saw the stunned look on his face. You didn't want to look crazy, so you quickly added. “I just thought wrong.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.” He said, a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just...did you bring me a gift?” You changed the subject, taking the box he had previously offered you. Inside was a necklace with a cherry blossom charm.

“Your computer wallpaper is a picture of cherry blossoms. And I saw this necklace in a store when I was walking with my mom, and I thought you might like it. But it's okay if you don't want it-” He spoke fast until you interrupted him.

“I love it, thank you.” You smiled at him and took the necklace out of the box. “Could you help me with this?”

With some trepidation and uncertainty still present, Spencer positioned himself behind you with the jewel in his hands, carefully brushed your hair aside and fastened the necklace around your neck. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin made you feel a slight shiver.

“Thanks.” You said as you turned around to face him. You gave him a hug, though you were a little unsure.

He returned your embrace, feeling a sense of relief that things between you were okay. “You don't have to thank me.”

“It's not about the gift. It's just a way to say thanks for being you.”

Perhaps he was your prince after all.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #matthew gray gubler

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clairenatural · 1 year ago

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Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.

It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.

It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.

He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.

Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.

So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.

It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long.

Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.”

The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”

It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.

Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.

"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.

Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.

"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.

"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.

He turns the keys. He drives them home.

Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).

Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.

It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"

Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."

"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."

"You didn't correct her?"

"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.

"Uh huh."

"It felt trivial."

"To tell her we're not married?"

"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.

Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."

"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.

Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.

"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"

Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."

Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."

Across the table, Cas grins at him.

"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.

"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."

"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."

They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.

#mae clairenatural writing fic in the year 2023......#go easy on me im rusty #i started this a year ago and decided to finish it and that was PAINFUL #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #1.2k words #my words

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alexanderwales · 3 months ago

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My son has been having some behavioral issues, so we've been doing arduous consultations and screeners and questionnaires to try to get some kind of guidance, which has been very frustrating. Everyone in the broad field of child psychology has said either "have you talked about autism" or "have you talked about ADHD", and sometimes both, because they're comorbid. But in order to get an actual diagnosis, you need to find the right people who are qualified to actually make a determination.

So a few days ago, this culminated in us finally talking to the guy who had the answers, at least according to modern child psychology, and he said that no, there's not really a basis for a clinical diagnosis of either autism or ADHD. There are still the behavioral issues, which are most of the reason we went for testing (along with some inattention, fidgetyness, sensory issues, and other things that are sometimes markers), but that's apparently something to work on with therapy and maybe will just go away as he gets older and matures.

But the other thing that the guy with the answers had to say was that maybe a lot of this can be explained by really high test scores in the cognitive stuff. We knew he was a smart kid, but the guy with the answers said that our son is three standard deviations above normal on all the cognitive tests, including an IQ test that I didn't know was a part of it, and that this is perhaps why he's so bored at school and difficult to keep engaged.

I think that's maybe part of the answer, but not the whole thing. I've been trying to prepare this child to not have gifted kid syndrome his whole life, trying to make sure he doesn't just breeze through everything and then crumble when he faces a challenge because he doesn't know what to do when something is actually tough. It doesn't matter how smart you are if you don't put in the work, if you can't overcome obstacles, if you coast through life. Those lessons do not seem to have sunk in at all, so I don't know.

But as we're getting ready to leave, my wife came in with her particular brand of humor.

Wife: So you're saying it's not too late to install some lead pipes in the house, right? That might be the solution to all our problems.

To his credit, the guy with the answers laughed, and then said, "yeah, or maybe asbestos".

Later, in the car:

Wife: Asbestos doesn't cause lower IQ. Me: Yeah, I know. Wife: I should have said something. Me: That would have been very awkward. Wife: Maybe he would have appreciated the correction. Me: I really don't think he would have. Wife: But you noticed too, right? My joke about lead was good, and his follow up about asbestos was bad. Me: My very first thought was "I hope she doesn't say something about this". Wife: You love me. Me: I do, but sometimes when we're talking to people together, I'm very aware of what you're going to say. Wife: It's not too late. I could message him. Me: I know you're joking, but please please don't. Wife: I wouldn't. Me: You wouldn't, unless it was funny. Wife: Yeah, and it would be hilarious, so ...

We at least know where the boy gets his tendency for pedantry from.

#stories

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limethefirst · 4 months ago

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Void Runners Pt. 1

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: contains heavy spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, swearing, blood, the normal deadpooly stuff

summary: Reader has been trapped in the void for a few months now, after getting into trouble with the TVA, when they suddenly stumble upon a Deadpool and a Wolverine.

Part 2 / Part 3

a/n: if this gets popular enough I might write a part two, I'm having Deadpool and Wolverine brainrot, also this is unedited so pls tell me if you see mistakes

It had been 4 months since you had been sent to the Void; the apocalyptic like plain, becoming what you had accepted as your new home.

You were a time traveler, that had accidently messed up some big event and that caused the TVA to come and take care of you. You weren't sure what the big event was, something about some saving some rich guys parents. You thought you were doing a good thing by it but apparently not.

Whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore, you were now stuck here. You'd been alone most of the time, sometimes seeing other people but you had learned quickly into your stay that these others were part of this group formed by Cassandra Nova, an insanely powerful woman who you never dared cross paths with.

Until unfortunately today.

Sadly you stumbled upon the wrong people at the wrong time. As you were walking through the dusty plains, you saw two men falling from the sky, thinking back on your heroic days you felt obligated to help out. That was not the best idea, you tried to go up to the men but instead they started arguing when a fight suddenly broke out between them. By the time the fight had ended you had blood all over your (as clean as they can be in the void) shoes.

"Augh, I just cleaned these too." Is what seemed to snap the men out of whatever had just happened.

"Oh my gosh! How long has the movie been out? Five days, and we are already getting reader inserts? Wow!" The man in the red mask said to no one in particular, "And what might your name be sunshine?"

"Uh Y/N, are you guys okay, you seem to be stabbed in a lot of places?" You answered a bit concerned after seeing two men almost tear each other apart.

"Oh this? Sorry, my partner here has weird kinks-" The strange man is cut off by the other seemingly older man punching him in the jaw. "See what I mean kiddo?"

"Enough Wade." The older man gruffed, his arms crossing as he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Whatever you say sugar cube!" The man known as Wade looked back at you, "Oh you must be wondering who we are huh! Well this hairy beast of a man is the one and only Wolverine, and I am your friendly neighbor Deadpool!" Wolverine looked at you and sighed at the at his 'partners' antics.

From there things only went downhill, and that is how you were stuck with them being hauled off to Cassandra Nova's lair.

"Awee are we having a flashback already?!" Deadpool's annoying voice rang from in front of you. Currently you were stuck in a ball like cage with, Johnny Storm, Wolverine and Deadpool.

Johnny began to explain to the men where we were all headed, going over the basics of who were about to meet and the type of woman Cassandra was. You looked a bit ahead as you noticed you were already here.

As you guys had come to a stop you saw the others being throw out of the cage, you held up your chained hands to the man before they could throw you as well, "I got it, thanks" jumping out before you got tossed as well.

At the same time you got down you heard Deadpool's odd comment, "Huh, Paul Rudd finally aged." You turned down at the man slightly and gave him a quick look of confusion unsure what he was talking about; his partner seemingly unphased by the comment, most likely used to it.

Looking ahead ignoring the bickering next happening to your right, you saw what seemed to be a bald woman in the mouth of the giant skull. As the dust cleared you could see her get up from the wheelchair she was sitting on, "What was the point of the wheelchair.." You dully commented.

Deadpool adding on, "Oh ableism great, that's not gonna go over well with the Woke mob!"

You looked at your surroundings, no longer caring about the scene unfolding before you, Deadpool began to talk with Cassandra, somehow coming up on the topic of a coke, loving roommate.

After a bit more talking between the two you hear Deadpool slandering Cassandra, and then telling her it was all Johnny who said it. This brought back your attention just in time to see Johnny's skin ripped from his skeleton.

"Not my favorite Chris." Deadpool says, not having much remorse for the scene in front of him.

"You piece of shit you just got him fucking killed." Wolverine adds, pointing at the remains of Johnny.

"Awe I kinda liked him," You mumbled to yourself, as Wolverine looked at you with a look of discouragement on his face, almost as if saying not to get Deadpool started with this.

"Hey we are all grieving," Deadpool yells, "He doesn't know what he was doing to the budget." He mumbled the last part.

Cassandra ignored his words and walked past the group, "Shush, Alioth's hungry."

"There must be some kind of mistake," Deadpool started again, "Big yellow is an anchor being and I'm Marvel Jesus, MJ if you're nasty." Cassandra turned her head a little as you stood next to them listening to their story, not getting the chance to hear it earlier. "This may be hard to hear but there's another British villain, he's gonna destroy my universe and I'm gonna stop him."

"Oh honey you don't really strike me as the world saving type." Cassandra answered him, this seemed to upset the laidback man. You watched as he seemed to straighten himself up hearing that. "Did I hit a nerve?" She turns back, almost sarcastically.

"I didn't want it to come to this," Deadpool says, "Either you help us or my friend here is gonna sing the entire second act of Music Man with no warm up"

You look at him confused, "What the hell is that?"

"Where'd you get the chair?" Wolverine asks Cassandra as she walks back towards the skull.

She quickly answers, "Every once in a while we get a Charles here, never mind though, he didn't care to find me."

Deadpool leans back seemingly annoyed, "Ughh Gen Z and their trauma bragging!" He shoots you a quick glance, "Can't you just stuff it down and turn it into a cancer like the rest of us?"

"But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together." A light smile graced Cassandra's face as she watches you guys.

You watch their exchange a little more before you notice the purple mist coming up behind you guys slowly getting closer. As you turn back around you see Wolverine getting dragged through the ground and Deadpool backing up.

"I am so not with them." You tell Cassandra hoping that doesn't happen to you.

"Oh yes they are." Deadpool fires back, making sure he isn't next. Unfortunately for him he was, you watched as Cassandra got behind him and put her fingers in his head.

She began to whisper something and within the next minute she let go. Deadpool shook his head and started rambling yet again, "You are so mean! I could taste your fingers! They taste like hate, and where in God's name is the intimacy coordinator?!"

"You're so lost Mr Wilson, long before you came here." Cassandra told him.

He took out his knife and held it up, "This is baby knife, she's gonna fuck you in the face now."

Cassandra looked at the knife at back at him, "If you're going to kill me it's going to take more then a little blade."

"How about six?" Before she could say anything else, Wolverine came up behind her and stabbed her with his claws.

"Holy shit" You said covering your mouth.

Before you could celebrate, Cassandra began laughing and fell from the claws, "This has been fun but the big guy needs to eat and the rent is due." She turned around walking away as a looming shadow of darkness rose above the skeleton you were in.

Before anyone had a chance to say anything people had scattered and Deadpool grabbed you and hoisted you up over his shoulder taking you towards the machine Wolverine was trying to fix for an escape.

You hadn't a second to say anything because the next thing you knew, you were being taken with them hopefully away from the giant monster.

#deadpool #deadpool x reader #deadpoolxteen!reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverinexteen!reader #deadpool and wolverine #x men #marvel #cassandra nova #superheros

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sevsbestfriend · 2 months ago

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I usually write fics here but I just wanna rant rn.

Sometimes I got to old posts and stuff, either to get new ideas or just see what the fuck is going on with the other side of the fandom.

The people coming to James defense or crazy, like on one hand they are like 'oh he was only human, he grew as a person otherwise how would lily love him?'

We literally have cannon confirmation that the fucking prat didn't stop hexing people, he just learned to hide it better. Sirius and Remus confirmed this when they called Severus a 'special case'. I don't give a shit about them saying he attacked first, you better believe I am attacking first if I come across a guy who has stripped me naked in public when I didn't do shit to him. (Or the other guy who tried to get me killed by bloody werewolf) Like wtf are you even talking about at that point???

Also, Harry comes across a detention report of them hexing another student in their 7th year. So uhm...yeah.

Then they are like 'oh Severus hates him so his memories are biased'

Did you morons even read the books?? Pensive memories are unbiased, any manipulation is extremely apparent as we saw in Slughorns case. So NO they aren't biased that extremely uncomfortable read of SWM? it's fucking canon in its truest sense.

Also, how in the ever living hippogryph does a guy who strips people naked for fun change so much that he becomes head boy??

It's pretty simple, he doesn't. He learns to hide it better and given the fact that this person has always been given the benefit of the doubt, it is very easy for them to their nature.

Dude had a map that showed him everyone's real time location and an invisibility cloak, he could damn well harass anyone in isolated corners of the castle if he wished. Which is exactly what he did.

Also, these people love to claim how 'lily only approved of him cause he changed.'

To that I say, Who the fuck is Lily?? Mother Teresa??

How is she the ultimate decider of what is good and bad and at the same time, completely right in dating someone who stripped another student makes after a year (or 2) of the event??

Don't get me wrong, she doesn't owe Severus anything, really, but seriously this is just ridiculous. Like if I was a woman, I would be genuinely terrified of someone like that, especially when they got away with no real consequences what so ever.

James was a prick with a very good PR team for friends and teachers. That's really it, it is often said that good looking people can get away with a lot of things and James is just a prime example of that.

---_---_---_---_---_---_---_---_

Also...BRAVE?? Dude had 2 cheat items and the advantage of a Pureblood upbringing and was still too PUSSY to face Severus alone. Yeah..what a real Gryphindor that one. Scrams bravery to you doesn't it? He did this all the way till 17, so yeah he definitely was super important in the order right??

---_---_---_---_---_---_---_---_---_

Dumbledore invested quite a bit in the Marauders with his blatant favoritism and letting a werewolf in the school risking his own position as a headmaster.

And...they all turned to be bloody useless. With only James being useful because of his participation in the birth of Harry Potter.

Sirius in his madness derailed a murder investigation for a fucking decade.

Remus, I genuinely can't remember anything substantial Remus did, except for letting someone he believed was a murderer into Hogwarts and never telling Dumbledore that they were Animagus to begin with.

---_---_--_---_

Seriously, the most useful person in the war had to literally beg on his knees for the man to use him. Even fate was like, for fucks sake, just give this guy a chance already.

#anti marauders fandom #severus snape #pro snape #anti jily #anti james potter #anti lily evans #anti sirius black #anti peter pettigrew #anti remus lupin

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andthespidersfrommars · 3 months ago

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other people have worded it better then me, but inej's assertion about having kaz in the without armor scene was clearly not just about emotional vulnerability. it’s a powerful line in the books and a nice metaphor for emotional intimacy, (something inej deserves from kaz) but let's not shy away from the fact that she also made it clear she meant physical intimacy, as her words were "fully clothed, gloves on, head turned away so our lips can never touch"

this nuance is important to consider, as it reflects the depth and complexity of her feelings at the time. it’s ironic that for people who apparently care so much about inej’s boundaries, the fandom rarely pays attention to what she says. inej has flaws and virtues, some affected by different experiences she's had, and that affects her choices. her words aren’t any less hurtful because of this. she got kaz in a vulnerable moment and said something cruel. later she reflects on this and admits she shouldn’t be holding kaz to standards she can’t meet herself, and she likely said that to him in the first place because she lashed out about something that’s personally a trigger for her and she’s vulnerable about. they both have a lot of issues surrounding physical intimacy.

that’s one reason why kanej is such a good ship- one of the most healthy, beautiful and nuanced relationships ever between two children who have been through horrific things, exploited, abandoned, and put in danger every day, who have found safety and friendship and understanding in each other. they aren’t going to be speaking super politely and using sensitive, respectful, inoffensive woke therapy speak at every second because that’s not their situation or their relationship and their interactions are raw and real. sometimes they make mistakes (kaz calling inej an investment, inej saying kaz wouldn’t be able to have her if he couldn’t touch her, etc) but they recognise and admit when they do and work through that. the beauty of their friendship lies in their imperfections and their capacity to learn from each other. the bare honesty they share is a testament to their growth, even when it leads to moments of pain or misunderstanding.

to suggest that holding inej to a higher standard and not acknowledging that her words could be perceived as hurtful is akin to ignoring the very human aspects of her character. it’s essential to recognize that she is capable of making mistakes or risk turning her into a perfect fandomised queen incapable of fault. her character's journey is not about being infallible, but about growth, self-reflection, and the courage to confront and overcome her fears. strong and resilient, yet also capable of causing harm, even unintentionally.

there’s a phenomenon in fandom spaces but particularly the grishaverse where fans have an opinion of something and then deem everyone else’s as bad or wrong, going so far as to make posts calling out other people for having different analysis. literary discussions should encourage an environment where different interpretations are welcomed and discussed respectfully, not minimised and devalued for a more popular fandom take that’s often incorrect when compared with the text of the book anyway. it’s okay for inej to make mistakes and learn from them, just as it's okay for readers to have varied interpretations of their interactions.

#six of crows #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #kanej #grishaverse #kaz/inej #shadow and bone #mine

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apostaterevolutionary · 2 months ago

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I am so sorry, apparently it’s 2024 and I’m arguing about dragon age again lmao. How did I get here! Why is this happening!! Time is a flat circle!!!

Anyway. People can feel how they want about the past games not mattering in this game. If you’re cool with it, I’m happy for you. But there’s one particular argument in defence of this choice that is really, really bothering me and I have to rant

The thing I keep seeing is “well all this other stuff has nothing to do with the main plot or Rook, so it should be cut” and that’s. Not a good way to tell stories in my opinion. Because here’s the thing: it’s not about the Big Overall Plot. It’s about the characters that live in this world, big and small

I’m going to use the example of Varric and Hawke cause I think it’s the easiest to explain quickly. Varric is a storyteller. That’s the defining trait of his character. He tells stories, and sometimes they’re true and sometimes they’re not and sometimes it’s something in between. In DA2 he tells you about his brother. In inquisition, he talks about hawke and there’s banter about several of the companions. Most of these are just little one liners that don’t “serve the overall plot” but they serve Varric’s character

And that matters

So if we take this character known for telling stories about people that have been in his life, well, he largely can’t do that now. How can he talk about Hawke, someone who can be a very close friend of his, without even their gender being a choice you can select? Or whether Varric should be saying ‘is’ or ‘was’ about them? How can he talk about the companions in DA2 or inquisition when a lot of them don’t have to be recruited or can die? Will he limit himself to only characters that are guaranteed to be a part of it and alive? Or is it that he and Rook will have such a shallow relationship that Varric, of all characters, never talks about his life and past exploits?

Or has Varric as a character changed so much that he doesn’t even want to tell stories anymore? That Hawke living or dying means nothing to him? That the friendships he built with people in 2 games mean nothing to him? That he’s become literally unrecognizable?

This is where the problem is. Sure, Rook maybe doesn’t care about these people they’ve never met. But do they care about Varric? What about if a companion mentions an old friend of theirs, talks about an experience they had that made them who they are - is that only okay if that experience isn’t from a previous game? Or are all the characters so flat that we never learn anything about their connections to others outside of Rook? Is this story SO focused on this player character and this plot that NOTHING else matters, even within the world, and there’s no depth to be found in any of the characters that feature in it?

Writing characters so that they only ever talk about things that “directly serve the plot” is how you get flat, unremarkable, boring, forgettable characters. And that’s not something I would have accused bioware of doing even if some instalments are stronger in this area than others. But it sounds like that’s what they’re doing here, at least with the past characters. Cause sure, maybe Morrigan is so closed off she’ll never mention her son and partner. That’s believable, even if iffy given that they’ve said she’s going to be more involved than we think. But Varric? VARRIC??? Never mentioning ANY of the people he used to spend time with and care about except Solas and maybe some of the inquisition characters that can’t die or not be recruited but also carefully skirting around what happened to them in the game? That’s literally not the same character

And I would expand this to like. A letter mentioning this or a codex mentioning that, or ambient dialogue about so and so - that makes the world feel deep and those random, unimportant NPCs feel richer by connecting them to the larger world. It’s not about “serving the plot”, it’s about making your world and characters deep enough that they feel real, lived in, and like something we can actually care about

#I am so mad that I’m mad about this but I’m mad about this lmao #I wasn’t even decided on the game!!! I was cautiously waiting and seeing! and now I’m MAD!!!!! why would they do this!!!#anyway idk I just needed to get this out cause I’m doom scrolling too much and some of the defences of it just don’t make sense with good #storytelling and I’m upset that people don’t see that #again if you don’t care I’m happy for you please continue being unbothered #but god I am so bothered because I want good characters and wold building gdi #the plot is honestly so secondary like if the plot is ass but the characters are amazing I’d pick that ove good plot and shallow characters #every time #okay I need to get ready for bed and my head hurts lmao #I also don’t know how to do a cut in mobile anymore so sorry #long post #dragon age #veilguard #veilguard spoilers #text #shut up nerd #bioware critical

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thatfandomslut · 8 months ago

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Color Her Green

Karen Shetty x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Trigger Warnings: SMUT!!! MDNI. cursing, oral (r receiving), v soft smut

Request:

I was wondering if you were open to doing this story idea with Karen! So basically the reader is the well known lesbian of the school. She is very dominant and flirty towards females. She will literally flirt with anyone of the same gender. Karen and the reader have a secret fwb relationship. But Karen wants it to be something more. So one day the reader was flirting with Regina and being very forward with her. Basically trying to get in her pants, and Karen gets jealous and drag the reader away to their secret place and they have a little fight which ends with smut and fluff. Also if you do the smut scene can you have Karen say “baby” and a lot of cute pet names? I hope this was a good idea that you might do!

Mean Girls requests are open.

Karen could admit that she was a bit hurt. How could (Y/n) go from a night causing her to orgasm three times to trying to get into one of her best friend's pants? Right in front of her, no less. Karen felt a little ashamed as she felt jealousy constrict her chest, her eyes narrowing across the hall. Gretchen noticed Karen tense up beside her as she winced, noticing Regina's back pressed against the lock behind her, (Y/n) whispering something in her ear. Whatever (Y/n) said caused Regina to bite her lip before laughing, a finger sliding down (Y/n)'s chest as she did so. The action caused Karen's fingers to twitch before she began to make her way over.

"Karen, Gretchen, hey," (Y/n) greeted, completely ignoring the obvious anger on the girl's face. She still had an arm on a locker beside Regina, not moving. This seemed to only increase the fury bubbling in Karen as she waited for (Y/n) to move. When she didn't, Karen grabbed the arm the helped her lean over to Regina, pulling her outside. Once her arm was released, (Y/n)'s hands went up in a confused sign of surrender. "What the fuck? What's going on?"

A scoff escaped Karen's lips at the apparent confusion on (Y/n)'s face. They had been friends with benefits for over three months, one might think (Y/n) would have the respect to not flirt with one of Karen's best friends. But, color her green, jealousy was radiating off of her along with the anger rolling off her skin. "Why are you flirting with Regina?" She questioned, her arms crossing angrily. She stood in front of (Y/n), stiff. That's how (Y/n) knew that she was in trouble with the girl for some reason. The bubbly smile often adorned by Karen was nowhere in sight. Even her beautiful brown eyes had darkened in anger.

(Y/n) examined Karen for a moment before she began to realize what was going on. "Are you jealous, Karen?" There was a look of momentary disbelief on (Y/n)'s face as she shook her head in shock for a moment. "We're not even exclusive. I don't understand why you're so upset. Before we started this 'friends with benefits' thing, we agreed on no feelings. I don't get why you're now upset with me for flirting with someone else whenever you and I aren't even official." Her words hurt. She had hoped that (Y/n) would eventually feel the same way she did.

Karen supposed that this was now her fault for placing unrealistic expectations on (Y/n). With that said, she was not about to take the fall in this argument. If Regina George taught her anything, it was to never lose an argument. "That doesn't make it okay to flirt with Regina, of all people. I thought there might be boundaries where you wouldn't try to fuck my best friends." Karen stated, hoping her comment had an actual effect. Judging by the deadpan on (Y/n)'s face, it didn't.

"In one of our first conversations, I had asked you if there were any boundaries. All you said was that, if I slept with anyone, you'd want me to use protection and get frequent check-ups to make sure no STDs were being passed around. Both were reasonable and valid requests. You never said anything about flirting with Regina. In fact, I have flirted with her and Gretchen many times before." (Y/n) argued back, crossing her arms the same way Karen had. She was growing annoyed. Of course, she started to develop feelings for Karen. She had been trying to deflect them in fear Karen didn't feel the same. However, feelings being revealed in an argument due to jealousy made (Y/n) too prideful to admit she was wrong. "Why do you have a problem now?"

There was a moment when neither of them spoke, tension thickening in between them. They both knew why there was a problem now. Karen took (Y/n) by the arm, taking them to the outdoor janitor's closet. They found out that it had long since been abandoned and it became their place. They had even cleaned it up once. There was not a speck of dust or dirt in the empty room. Once they entered, (Y/n) looked at Karen with her brows furrowed, still waiting for an answer. No answer was given. Instead, Karen's lips smashed against hers as (Y/n)'s back hit the door as soon as they entered.

A muffled moan escaped (Y/n)'s lips their teeth clashing as they fumbled through each other's clothes clumsily. Karen's hand quickly slipped into (Y/n)'s pants, causing (Y/n)'s back to involuntarily arch, her hips bucking into Karen's hand as she circled her clit with her fingers. "Fuck," she whispered. Karen always knew just where to touch her, and just like Karen knew every inch of her body, (Y/n) knew Karen's. They knew everything that made the other twitch, moan, and cum. Their hands memorized each other's bodies easily. How could (Y/n) try to memorize another woman's body after having become bonded with Karen's? They fit too nicely together. It took only seconds for (Y/n) to feel weak in the knees as her head rested on the door, moans spilling from her lips as sweet as molasses.

Karen smirked a bit at how easily undone she made (Y/n). "You're so pretty, baby," she whispered into (Y/n)'s ear before nipping at her earlobe. The small nip and pleasure building in her abdomen caused (Y/n) to moan again, though she tried to bite them back. Noticing this, Karen let out a soft 'tsk' sound, stopping her movement. This successfully caused (Y/n) to whine, looking at Karen with pleading eyes. This only caused victory to build in Karen as she shook her head softly. "Don't hide those pretty sounds from me, baby, or I'll have to stop. Understood?" Karen removed her hand, unbuckling (Y/n)'s jeans as she waited for a response.

(Y/n) noted all of the mischievous thoughts that were behind Karen's usually thoughtless, but beautiful brown eyes. (Y/n) swallowed thickly, unable to get her words out. "Yes, pretty girl, understood." She agreed and Karen let out a soft hum in appreciation. (Y/n) needed Karen, but she was going agonizingly slow with her actions. The sound of the bell sounded in their room, but neither budged. Instead, Karen continued her actions, not caring about the look (Y/n) was giving her. "Please, baby, I need you," (Y/n) pleaded only causing a small smile to form on Karen's lips. But no action was quickened by this.

"I'm not going to start until you promise to never flirt with my friends again," Karen said, blowing on (Y/n)'s clit. An easy tease tactic that worked every. fucking. time. (Y/n) groaned, her hands making their way into Karen's curly hair. This was an action always appreciated by Karen. She loved it when (Y/n)'s mind was so foggy, she had no clue where her hands went. "Well, answer me, baby. Are you going to flirt with any of my friends again?"

(Y/n) licked her bottom lip before sucking it in. "N-no, Karen," she finally got out, her fingers twitching slightly as they tangled in her curls. "I won't flirt with them ever again. I-I only want to be yours. I want to be your girlfriend." There was a moment where both were surprised by her words and to suppress her grin, Karen quickly got to work. Her nose accidentally bumped into (Y/n)'s sensitive clit as she began eating her out like she was her last meal. And, maybe she was, they weren't guaranteed another minute. She had to take (Y/n) like she could be. Not that (Y/n) was complaining as curses and moans filled the air around them.

It wasn't long until (Y/n) found herself close to her orgasm. "Fuck, baby girl, I'm so, so close. You're doing so good." She moaned out, and Karen kept the perfect pace she had. As (Y/n) came, her legs became shaky. She forced herself to stay standing, though the objective was hard with Karen riding out her high. "Shit, my love, you're so fucking perfect." (Y/n) cried out, leaning back on the wall for support. Karen pulled away, helping (Y/n) back into her underwear and pants, wiping her chin with her arm. (Y/n) pulled her in, kissing her deeply before either could say anything.

Karen was in a deep state of happiness before realizing they still needed to discuss just what (Y/n) had said. "Did you mean it? Do you actually want us to be girlfriends?" Karen questioned, looking at the way (Y/n)'s chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. It was obvious the orgasm, the kiss, and Karen had stolen (Y/n)'s breath as she nodded softly. When she whispered out a soft 'yes,' Karen had grinned a bit. "But not because of our fight or sex right?" She questioned carefully, not wanting to accuse (Y/n)'s feelings of being fake. She just wanted to be sure given the previous state of their relationship.

(Y/n) understood completely as she cupped Karen's cheeks. Leaning in, she pressed a gentle kiss on Karen's forehead. "I really mean it. I have felt something more than friends with benefits for a while. I just… I didn't want to ruin what we had. Instead of doing the right thing and communicating how I felt… I flirted with Regina. I'm sorry for that." (Y/n) apologized, having finally caught her breath. Karen smiled a bit at this fixing (Y/n)'s hair gently.

"It's okay," Karen confirmed with a gentle nod. She leaned in, kissing (Y/n). This time, their kiss was soft and slow. It still held the same passion, only it wasn't a kiss that would be followed up by sex. The two basked in each other's presence, time being lost as they finally parted away. "I should be apologizing, too. The way I approached the situation was wrong. Instead of trying to talk, I just argued instead. I just like you, a lot, and seeing you with Regina hurt. But, we're over that now."

(Y/n) kissed her again, but not a lasting kiss. Instead, it was chaste. "It's okay, we're passed it." (Y/n) said softly before kissing the tip of Karen's nose gently. "We're so past it that if you wanted to give me a hickey to show everyone that I'm yours, I would welcome and invite it." The two of them laughed, knowing it was a joke, but Karen still took her up on the offer. It was hard to not make love to Karen right then and there as she sucked the sweet spot on (Y/n)'s neck, revealing a dark bruise on her neck. Karen admired her work with a smirk as she kissed the sensitive spot softly to soothe it.

"Now, if someone flirts with you, you can say you have a girlfriend." Karen winked playfully, and (Y/n) laughed gently. She leaned over, fixing Karen's hair, and using her thumb, she un-smudged Karen's lipstick. The two of them continued to fix each other before they walked out of their special place. They had missed their homeroom and first period, plus a small portion of the second period, but neither of them cared. "See you at lunch."

As the two separated, the goofy grins on their faces due to them finally being official never dropped. As soon as Karen entered the second period, Gretchen already adorned a knowing and supportive smile, asking for all the details. Karen didn't share every single thing, but she did tell Gretchen about how she and (Y/n) were now official. For the rest of the day, nothing could ruin either of their moods. Especially not when (Y/n) was proudly showing her hickey to anyone who stared too long.

#karen shetty x reader #karen shetty #mean girls x reader #mean girls

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lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me · 6 months ago

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⋆୨♡୧⋆l-l-love🤢⋆୨♡୧⋆

as y/n walked to the hybe cafe, she immediately spotted riki, a head above the rest. so tall she could point him out in a crowd anywhere. she took a deep breath and took a moment to compose herself before eventually walking over to him. she tapped him on his shoulder as he was facing away from her. "oh! hey!" there it is that smile. to say she loved his smile would be an understatement. she thought it was the prettiest thing she'd ever seen and she nearly felt as if she was going to die at the sight of it. she couldn't help but smile back at him. "hey! how are you?" what he wanted to say was "so much better now that i'm with you", but what came out instead was "good. yeah, i'm good, what about you?" his eyebrow raised, it was single handedly the cutest thing y/n had ever seen. "i'm pretty good. doing a lot of schedules for debut, you know, usual stuff" could she be anymore awkward? clearly yes. first "thanks you too" and now "usual stuff" she felt like she wanted to disappear right then and there, but riki absolutely loved it. this whole time he thought she was so cool and calm, but really she's cute and awkward, which he secretly liked more than if she would have been chill. he finds himself staring at her for a moment before quickly catching himself "oh um- did you want food? I didn't get any cause i wasn't sure if you'd want anything." she smiled at his thoughtfulness and said "no thanks, i'm not super hungry right now. thank you though." he thought back to their conversation yesterday, the whole reason why they're here now. "so, you wanted some tips about mcing?" he asked. "oh! yeah. im kind of nervous, i have no idea what i'm doing and you've ben an mc before, so i was hoping you could give me some advice?" she was hoping this didn't come off as pathetic or anything. i mean, who needs advice on how to talk into a mic? y/n apparently. "well," he starts "for me, i find its best to interact with the fans while waiting for our speaking parts. it calms my nerves before speaking because i'm talking to people that support me. often times it's mostly your own fans watching you in person. that’s at least what sunghoon told me. and if you're worried about messing up lines or something, I'll be there to cover for you, reading from a prompter is hard, so if you mess up its okay. don't worry too much about it." she nodded along to his words, taking mental notes on his advice. "thank you, i really appreciate it. i don't know why im so nervous. its just talking into a mic to a camera." she sighs. "I mean, I understand. it's nerve wracking when it's your first time. I felt like that too when I mc'ed for MAMA one year. it can be scary talking in front of a bunch of people and trying not to mess up. that's why you have a co-host, me! if you do mess up, I can cover you so it doesn't look too much like an accident." her heart fluttered at that. over something so small? she knew it was corny, but she couldn't help it. she felt so strongly for him. she always thought that if she actually talked to him, this whole little crush would go away. but to her surprise, it only got stronger. "you know, since we're going to be working together, we should get each others numbers." her heart stopped, and so did his. hers in shock, and his in fear. what if she said no? what if she thought he was weird? did he really just ask her for her number? there's no way. she froze for a moment, but realized she really should probably respond to him "yeah! yeah of course!" riki was never more relieved in his life. he handed her his phone "here, put your number in." she took it from him and put in her number, texting herself. "there. i can send you a picture for my contact photo later" his heart raced, he had just gotten his crushes number, and she's going to send him a picture of herself later. could his life get any better then this? "okay, sure, yeah, that sounds good" he stammers. is he really flustered right now? oh my god she thought. as the two talked and laughed together, they figured out they're more similar then they thought they were.

the pair quickly growing closer in just mere hours, both feeing significantly strong for each other than when they first said hello earlier. as the time drew later, the two decided to end their night, quickly realizing the ghost town that the hype cafe had become. "oh- well, its late, and my members are blowing up my phone asking where I am" she laughed as she scrolled through the countless messages left by yunjin and hanni. 'yeah, I should probably go too. I told jay I'd help make dinner tonight" he sighed, wishing he didn't promise jay anything and he could hang out with y/n for longer. she laughed lightly "ill let you go then. text me though, okay?" what had come over her? did she really just say that? (y/ns version of flirting was a bit different then others, that being because she didn't know how to flirt) riki nodded and smiled "yeah, I'll text you. see you later!" he waved to her and started to walk away. she waved back and watched him go. she sat back down and sighed once he was out of her sight. she was so fucked. she was completely and utterly melted by him, and they had only just official met yesterday. maybe there was something wrong with her. but frankly, she didn't care. maybe she was being delusional like usual, but she was pretty sure she could see something there with riki.

masterlist | next | previous

luckys note!: guys i’m so good at writing😎😎

(📍) PERM TAGLIST IS OPEN!

(🩷) MIDNIGHT FICTION TAGLIST! @nctislifue @akuspic @pkjay @siya-bean @eun-chaez @wavetosunoo @gweoriz @luminouskalopsia @soobiary @ivyannemarie @rikikiynikilcykiki @emma2black @enh4ht @wooziswife @jjunie-0 @yumilovesloona @wth121 @riksaes @isaxshin @allforhee @rikisgeef @sunghoonsarmpit @autumn583 @tzuyusluv @lukesboo @anormieee @rockyhedgehog @thomawifey @lovrqis @akashisthighs @just-a-girl-with-hyper-fixations

(dm me/comment under the midnight fiction masterlist to be added!)

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atlabeth · 10 months ago

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(they all say that) it gets better | luke castellan

bleedin' me dry for context (this is that reader's origin story!!)

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

a/n: does it still count as fluff if you already know it doesn’t end well? idk but i’m having fun writing for this pair so it’s okay. i hope you guys are enjoying reading them!! this ended up becoming a hell of a lot longer than i thought it would be but these kind of one shots are my faves to write lol

title from teenage dream by olivia rodrigo bc apparently guts teenage angst works very well for a demigod who feels like they're worthless and unwanted for a good period of time!! shoutout to the gods

wc: 11.4k JESUS

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. typical anger at the gods, but luke is actually pretty sweet! crazy. mostly hurt/comfort, reader is going through it at the beginning (mentions of injuries and almost dying), honestly she's going through it the whole time but luke is very nice to her lol. barely proofread bc proofing 34 pages is a nightmare !!

It was your first day as a demigod and you were already off to a bad start.

You didn’t remember much, obviously. There was a lot of stumbling, barely held up by your satyr as you crossed the border, and then full on collapsing. Somehow you managed to stay conscious all the way to the infirmary, enough to hear shocked murmurs from the people-like blobs around you and terrified, whispered affirmations from your satyr as he ran along with whoever was carrying you.

You didn’t remember much. But you do remember thinking what a shameful existence it would be to die at fourteen.

And now you were sitting in an uncomfortable cot, staring at the wall and counting divots. The first half of your visit was only there in flashes as you drifted in and out of consciousness, but now, unfortunately, you were fully awake. You belatedly wondered how many other kids began their camp life with a stay at the infirmary.

The thought was dashed from your head as you jolted and cried out in sudden pain, and you shot daggers with your glare at the boy next to you.

“Sorry.” The boy fixing you up was about your age, and he almost seemed to glow from within. “You dislocated your shoulder—I was popping it back into place.”

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

“I did,” he said, and when he placed his hands on your shoulder they actually did glow. “You just weren’t listening.”

“...Sorry,” you said after a moment. “I’m having a rough day.”

He shook his head with a slight smile. “It’s expected.”

“It’ll be okay,” your satyr said, and some of the tension left your shoulders as you looked over at Tate. He’d been by your side for the past two weeks of disasters, and you’d saved each other’s lives more times than you could count. You were just thankful he didn’t have to watch you die. “Jace is one of camp’s best healers. You’re in good hands.”

You nodded, not wanting to cause any more problems, so you bit your lip and bit your tongue and let him heal the rest of your injuries in silence. He was done soon enough, and you could feel both their eyes on you as you rifled through your backpack. Thankfully, Tate brought it in as you were dying. Your own blood stained the nylon.

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously.

“Better,” you said, tearing your eyes away from it as you continued making sure all your belongings were still there. “A lot better. Not like there’s much competition.”

Tate chuckled, and Jace picked up a small bag from the bedside table and handed it to you—it looked like there were little pieces of fudge inside. “Here.”

“What’s this?” you asked as you took it.

“Ambrosia,” he said. “Wait a few hours before you have a piece, and only have a little if you feel a lot of pain. I already gave you nectar while you were out, and the last thing we need is you burning up.”

You looked at Tate with raised eyebrows and he smiled a bit. “Ambrosia and nectar are the food of the gods. It heals demigods in small portions, but take too much and you’ll get a fever. Worst case scenario, you’ll literally burn up from the inside.”

“Oh,” you said, and you stuffed the bag into your pack before zipping it up. “I’ll… I’ll wait.”

“Probably a good idea,” Jace said, and he looked over at your satyr as he stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to my sword-fighting lessons. Can you give her a tour?”

He shook his head. “I have to debrief with Chiron and Mr. D. There were some… rough things on the road.” Tate looked at you. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes— are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Do your thing. I’ll look around some, then we’ll find each other later.”

Tate nodded thankfully and went through an open door opposite your bed, and Jace gave you a tight smile as he started to put away all the medical supplies he used on you. You sighed, slung your bag over your shoulder, and walked out.

You shut the door behind you and blinked rapidly as you tried to adjust to the sunlight. Then, you heard someone sigh.

“Thank the gods you’re okay.”

You turned to see a boy standing up from the wall. Dark curls hung just above his eyes, a contrast to his tanned skin, slightly red from exertion. He was wearing the same bright orange shirt that your healer was—Camp Halfblood, it said in curved text. He was far too pretty for his own good.

“I’m the one who carried you in,” he said, and you realized you were frowning. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” you said. “That’s… that’s nice of you.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten someone new,” he said. “Even longer since they’ve had such a dramatic entrance.”

You shrugged. You didn’t exactly know what to say to this boy. “Sorry.”

He paused for a moment, and then he nodded. “Not one for conversation. That’s fine.”

“I did almost just die,” you said wryly. “I’m fresh out of icebreakers at the moment.”

“Maybe I can help with that.” He held out his hand. “Luke Castellan. Head Counselor of the Hermes cabin, and apparent rescuer of damsels.”

You huffed a laugh as you stared at him. “I’m a damsel?”

“I’d say you were in as much distress as someone could be back there,” he said with a shrug. “I practically saved your life. I think that deserves a handshake.”

The slightest bit of tension dissolved from your shoulders and you shook his hand. His smile grew.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping his hand. “You were pretty rough when I found you.”

“Better,” you said, though you grimaced a bit as you tested your shoulder, and you decided to switch your pack to your other side. “Whoever that guy in the infirmary is, he’s good.”

Luke nodded. “Son of Apollo—they’ve got healing abilities. Very useful when we’re all constantly getting injured.”

Your brows knit together. “So it really is all real.”

“You were nearly dead on our doorstep, and from those claw marks I’m guessing it wasn’t just a bad fall.” Luke offered a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ve known it’s all real for a while.”

“Of course,” you said. “It’s just weird to really know that it’s all real. To see all of you, really. Just knowing I’m not alone.”

He nodded. “That’s the best thing about it, knowing you’re not alone.” He looked around at your surroundings—various campers chatting as they walked with each other (some glancing at you as they went by), distant shouts and cheers, and a perfectly blue sky matching the perfectly blue house you just left.

“I’d say the worst thing about it is feeling like I still have no idea what’s going on,” you said. “Unless the gods exist just to be deadbeats. That’d be disappointing.”

Luke actually laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you found yourself smiling a bit. “I can tell we’re gonna get along.”

Your own smile returned—it was like his joy was infectious. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he nodded. “Just… try not to throw the gods’ names around like that. They don’t like to be talked about unless they’re being revered.”

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.”

“Camp Halfblood,” he provided, and he gestured around you with his hand. “Keeping young heroes safe for over three millennia.”

“What,” you said wryly, “are you their PR guy?”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “It’s something Chiron likes to say.”

“You’re the second person to mention Chiron,” you said. “Who exactly is he?”

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?”

You gave him a look. “Come on. You carried me in. You think I could have gotten a tour between then and now?”

“Fair,” he admitted, and he tilted his head. “I can give you one, if you’re so inclined.”

“I said I would wait for Tate,” you said. “He’s my satyr— I figure I owe it to him.”

“C’mon,” Luke said. “He’s meeting Chiron and Mr. D—that’ll take long enough on its own, and if we don’t get out of here soon enough, you’re gonna get dragged into a whole other conversation with them. At least this way, you can get a little bit of downtime before all the lore of this place is dropped on you.”

You bit your lip, and then you sighed and nodded. “Fine. But it can’t take too long.”

Luke smiled and held up three fingers. “Halfblood’s honor.”

You didn’t know where to start.

There were far more people than you expected, not nearly enough beds for all of them, and half were talking and a quarter were fighting and the others were just completely unfazed. All you could do when you walked in was stare.

“You get used to it,” Luke said, glancing over at you. “Everyone’s nice, I promise—just keep a hand on your pockets.”

You frowned. “Why?”

He gave you a crooked smile. “Hermes is the god of thieves. We learn by experience in this cabin.”

Your hands instinctively reached back to the pockets of your jeans, despite the fact that you hardly had anything to your name. “Why do they put the new, naive kids in here again?”

“God of travellers, too—all are welcome.” Luke saw your hand shoot to your pocket and laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone mess with you too much—for now, at least.”

“Oh, good,” you said lightly. “The hazing doesn’t start until later.”

Luke smiled as he continued to guide you through the cabin, nodding to and greeting campers with equal parts names and handshakes as he walked past them. You got just as many stares as Luke did hellos, and your skin crawled at the attention.

“Why are they all looking at me?” you whispered to him.

“Like I said, you’re the first new camper in a while.” Luke glanced at you. “News spreads fast, especially in this wreck of a place.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said , but your grip tightened on your backpack strap. “Just very busy.”

“That’s what happens when they shove everyone in here,” Luke said. “All are welcome means all are welcome—Hermes kids, unclaimed kids, and kids of minor gods.”

You frowned. “Minor gods don’t have cabins?”

“This place is as much for us as it is in honor of the gods,” he said. “Twelve cabins for twelve Olympians. They don’t see it as a problem, therefore we can’t see it as a problem.”

You decided to bite your tongue, but you couldn’t hide your sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be here for the time being.”

He looked you up and down, and all you could think was that you must look like an absolute disaster. “I’m guessing you fall into the unclaimed.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a sad attempt at a smile. “Yeah, but I just got here—I bet my mom doesn’t even know it yet. Gods are busy.”

“They’re also omniscient,” Luke said wryly. “I’m sure she could have claimed you the second you crossed the border. Your parent could’ve given you a little divine intervention and kept you from nearly dying on the hill.”

“Well, I’m here for now,” you said with a bit too much force, and your nails dug into your palms. “So do you mind showing me around?”

Luke stared at you for a moment before he smiled. “‘Course not. I can also give you a quick tour of camp too, if you haven’t already gotten one.”

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you heal up well.”

“I don’t think that’s a credit to me,” you said. “I think it’s whatever magical drink that healer gave me while he was trying to bring me back. Tasted like pecan pie.”

“Nectar,” he said as he started walking, and you followed behind him. “Drink of the gods that heals demigods in small portions. It tastes like your favorite food—same as ambrosia.” He stopped in an empty corner and looked at you. “You like pecans?”

You shrugged, suddenly self conscious. “My dad makes it the best.”

“I hope you’ll be able to get the real thing soon,” he said, and then he gestured with a flourish at the same empty corner. “Welcome to your new home.”

You stared at him. “This is the floor.”

“We’re a little overbooked,” Luke said sheepishly. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve got sleeping bags. And this is a top tier corner. Quieter than the others.”

“…Great,” you said. “I feel very welcome.”

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, he sounded like he meant it. “Bunch of unclaimed kids, couple kids of minor gods, couple Hermes kids—it all kinda adds up to a mess.”

“...It’ll be better than camping,” you said, though mostly to yourself as you took your bag off your shoulder and let it thud to the ground.

“Hey,” Luke said, and his voice was softer, “it’ll be okay. With any luck, your parent’ll notice you now that you’re at camp, and you’ll be claimed before you know it.”

“I hope so,” you murmured.

“Luke, who’s the new girl?”

A boy with curls just as good as Luke’s walked up and clapped him on the back, smiling at you in a way that instantly set you at ease. He also wore the orange camp shirt, with long tan sleeves below that he’d pushed up to his forearms. He had kind eyes.

Luke said your name, his own smirk on his lips as he looked back at you. “You’ve probably heard about her dramatic entrance by now, but she’s the newest resident of the Hermes cabin.”

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked.

“...Unclaimed,” you said yourself. You hadn’t even been here for more than two hours and it already felt like your own brand of shame.

He repeated your name with a nod and held out his hand. “I’m Chris,” he said. “Fellow unclaimed kid.”

A little bit less of a scarlet letter, at least. You swallowed your budding insecurity and shook his hand. “Sounds like a shitty club to be in.”

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“How— how long has it been?” you asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answer.

His lips pressed into a tight smile. “Couple years.”

“Gods,” you murmured. You didn’t know if you’d be able to wait that long. It had been hard enough already growing up without one—if your mother was just out of reach after all this time, you would surely lose your mind.

“Don’t worry,” Chris said, his expression softening a bit. “It won’t take that long for you. I can tell.”

“That’s what Luke said,” you responded wryly. “Do I give off a vibe that says ‘I’m unwanted, but not for too long’?”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “I promise, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve been the counselor here for a couple months—kids get claimed all the time. I bet you’re next on the list.”

“Maybe,” you said. You didn’t believe it as much as they did—if they did at all.

You heard the door open and your head automatically turned to the noise, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment as Tate came through, slightly out of breath. You stared at Luke—he said thirty minutes at least. He just shrugged.

“I figured you would be here,” Tate said, his chest rising and falling just so as he walked—trotted?—inside. “You didn’t exactly wait.”

You opened your mouth to speak up, but Luke beat you, already putting on a charming smile. “Sorry. We got to talking, and then I offered to show her around the Hermes cabin. Just so she could put her things down, y’know.”

“‘Course,” Tate nodded. “That— that was probably a good idea. Would have been bad if you got lost or something.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you went to pick your bag up. “Luke said you would be talking for a lot longer— I was going to come back after I was done with this.”

Tate shook his head. That nervous energy from the worst parts of the road was back, and you wondered how badly the talk with Chiron and Mr. D went. “No, it was a good idea. Better than you getting lost around camp or caught up with some troublemakers. Thanks, Luke.”

“‘Course,” he said.

“Not sure she’s in much better hands with Luke,” Chris said wryly. “He’s head troublemaker in the cabin of troublemakers.”

Luke just chuckled and shook his head. “It’s her first day. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

You were only able to glance at Luke for a moment before your attention was drawn back to Tate as he gestured outside with his head. “Chiron’s waiting outside. He wants to talk to you some before the tour.”

And now you had to deal with it too. “...Great,” you said. You set your bag back on the ground, in your newly coveted corner.

“It’ll be fine,” Tate promised. “You already went through Hades to get here— he’s not gonna pile on you more. That’s why Mr. D is back at the Big House.”

This time, you did look at Luke. Thankfully, he understood.

“Dionysus,” he explained. “He’s our camp director.”

You blinked. “The god?”

“Yep,” he nodded. “Punishment from Zeus. Not the worst gig, but he’s… interesting.”

“Great,” you repeated, because you didn’t feel like processing that at the moment, and you looked back at Tate. “You’ll be with me, right?”

He nodded. “Not for the talk, but for the tour.”

You let out a loose breath, because it was going to be fine. He was just the authority figure of the one safe place in the world for you, and you were just an annoying kid that had no idea what the hell was going on.

“Great,” you said for the third time. You looked back at Luke. “I’ll see you around?”

He smiled and bowed his head. “Definitely. You do kinda live here indefinitely now.”

You nodded, more relieved than you wanted to show, and you started following Tate out.

You heard Chris mutter something to Luke, and you turned your head in time to see Luke jab him in the side. His head perked up when you laughed, and his whole expression changed as his smile returned and he did a little wave.

You couldn’t help but smile back as you did the same, and you left the cabin with a little pep in your step.

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.”

“Yes, Tate,” you said with a slight laugh. “The worst is already over—you got me here, and we’re both alive. I’m gonna be fine.”

“I know,” he said, and he managed his own smile. “I’m just worried about you. You don’t spend two weeks on the road fighting for your life with someone and not get a little attached.”

“You’ll be back here, right?” you asked. “I know your whole thing as a Protector, but you’ve gotta drop the demigods off too, right?”

“Of course I’ll be back,” he promised. “It… just might be a while. You’re the third demigod I’ve gotten to camp safely, now—Chiron’s trusting me with a bigger mission. It might be a couple months, but I’ll be back.”

“And you’re telling me to be safe,” you said wryly.

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” he said. “You just got here.”

“I know,” you said, and you pulled him into a hug. “Just don’t get killed out there.”

Tate laughed and patted you on the back before he pulled away. “So long as you don’t killed out here.”

“Thanks for everything,” you said with a nod.

“Thank you,” he said, and he gestured at the pavilion with his head. “Now get over there and make some friends. I’ll see you around.”

You hugged him one last time before you reluctantly went off, and you looked back to wave him goodbye before you really started on your way.

Your head still spun with all the information Chiron and Tate had imparted on you—so much about Greek mythology (and how it was all real), ADHD and dyslexia (and how they weren’t just there to make your life harder), your godly parent (who would hopefully claim you within the month) and so much more that you knew you would forget in an hour or two.

And Chiron’s talk. God, it felt more like you were in the principal’s office than anything, even though he was nothing but kind. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed from it all, and though the talk was probably meant to stave some of that anxiety off, it really didn’t.

But you’d always felt out of place all your life. And now you were finally where you were meant to belong—that had to count for something.

Tate had dropped you off at the pavilion—nearly dying had taken a lot out of you, and it just happened to be lunch—and just as you neared the tables and realized you had no idea where to sit, your eyes were drawn to a boy raising his hand and calling your name.

You looked over and saw that it was Luke, the counselor from earlier, and you couldn’t help but smile. True to his word.

You weaved your way through various campers and around tables full of kids to finally stop next to Luke’s table—Chris, the guy from earlier, sat across from him, and they both smiled at you.

“How’d the tour go?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said with a nod. “A little overwhelming, but better than I thought.” You pulled at your new camp shirt, the fabric noticeably brighter than a majority of those around you. “I match now, at least.”

“Orange suits you,” Luke remarked, and he patted the open spot next to him. “Sit down—stay for a while.”

You chuckled as you sat down. You still felt out of place, but at least they weren’t going to hang you out to dry. “Bright orange seems like an odd choice when we’re trying to stay hidden.”

“Probably so Chiron doesn’t lose us,” he joked. “This place is huge, and there’s a lot of us. When the newest camper gets turned around in the woods during capture the flag and nearly dies to a monster, it’s easier to find them.”

You frowned, and you must’ve not been very good at hiding your panic because Chris shook his head.

“Luke, you’re scaring her. She’s already been through enough.”

“Don’t worry,” Luke said, patting you on the shoulder. “Just a little halfblood humor. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you said wryly. “It feels like I nearly died four hours ago and now I have no idea who anyone is or what to do.”

“Not true,” Chris spoke up, and he smiled. “You know us.”

“I’ll look out for you,” Luke promised. “And pretty soon, you’re gonna be good enough to look out for me.”

You let out a long lasting sigh. “God, I hope so.”

—

“You’re not holding it right.”

You adjusted your hold on the hilt, resisting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down your forehead and the even stronger urge to hit him.

“You’re still not holding it right.”

Your teeth grinded together as you turned to look at Luke. “Are you gonna actually help me, or just stand there judgmentally?”

“I dunno,” he said. “The weather’s pretty good over here.”

You groaned and moved your non-dominant hand closer to the pommel, shifting your other down as well. “Is this worthy of your approval, Your Majesty?”

Luke chuckled as he walked over to you, and you could feel the calluses on his hands as he adjusted your form with slight touches to your arms. “It is acceptable, my lady, but your posture is not.”

“I don’t know how so many people at this camp like you,” you grumbled. “This is awful, and so are you.”

He smiled. “You’ve been here for two weeks. Give yourself some grace.”

“I’ve spent one of those trying and failing at the most basic basics of sword-fighting,” you said. “I spent the past hour losing to an Ares kid who I’m pretty sure actually wanted to kill me.” You looked over at Luke. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Trial by fire,” he supplied. “You’re still alive, so obviously you’re doing something right.”

“Yeah, probably because you’re here,” you said. “You can’t just kill someone when their counselor’s standing right next to them. It’s bad publicity.”

Luke huffed a laugh and shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Stop talking down on yourself. You managed to make it here with a couple monster attacks on the way—what’d you use then?”

“I started off with a screwdriver I stole from the garage before Tate and I left,” you said. “And then I stole a hunting knife from some outdoor store. Not exactly top-tier.”

“Lotta stealing,” Luke chuckled. “Maybe you are a Hermes kid.”

“They nearly caught me,” you said. “Definitely not.”

“Regardless of thievery, you still survived,” he continued. “You’re not a bonafide swordsman, that’s fine. But you’re resourceful, creative—scrappy in a fight is just what we need sometimes.”

“Great,” you mumbled. “I’m ‘scrappy’.”

“It’s a compliment,” he promised. “If we were all sword-fighters, we wouldn’t get far. Someone like you is gonna do us a lot of good.”

“If I don’t die before I even get out to the battlefield.” You knocked the helmet off of one of the straw dummies with your sword and sighed as it clattered to the ground. “This is the only enemy I stand a chance against.”

“You’re thinking too much about it all,” Luke said. “You’re literally wired for battle—didn’t you feel it during your fights on the way to camp?”

You shrugged. You guess you did—you remember not even taking the time to analyze the situation, just knowing your lives were in danger and finally feeling the ever-present jitters in your bones settle for the first time.

“It was rough,” you finally said. “But… it did feel like I knew what I was doing. Like my body understood it all even when my mind was still a couple steps behind.”

“And that was without training, and with,” Luke huffed an incredulous laugh, “a screwdriver. Just imagine what you’ll be able to do with actual Celestial bronze and actual training.”

“…I think I remember why people like you,” you said reluctantly. “And why I liked you.”

Luke grinned as he stood up. “That’s the spirit.” He picked up the fallen helmet and placed it back on the dummy, then looked at you. “I think I’ve put you through enough suffering. Let’s get lunch.”

“So a compliment was all it took for me to get out of this?” you asked in exasperation, gesturing with your sword as you worked to undo the ties on your armor with your other hand.

“Exactly,” he mused, and he took the sword from you to store it away. “I don’t get nearly enough compliments these days, y’know. Sometimes you end up taking that out on campers that don’t know how to swordfight.”

“Luke Castellan,” you grumbled as you finally got your breastplate off, “you are a piece of work.”

He winked. “Thank you.”

—

You didn’t think you were built for this life.

It was the only thought running through your head as you sat at a crowded Hermes table, absentmindedly picking at fruit with your fork as you stared off into the distance.

You’d been at Camp Halfblood for a month now, but it had already felt like a lifetime.

You’d managed to make a few friends—a Demeter girl who grew you a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a consolation prize for fighting dirty during training; an Athena boy who told you whatever interesting fact popped into his head first every time you ran into each other; the Hebe girl who had the misfortune to have the corner opposite you in the Hermes cabin and showed you skincare tips once in a while.

Throw in a smattering of Hermes and unclaimed kids and a counselor that seemed determined to make you smile, and you weren’t as lonely as you thought you’d be.

You were learning how to fight in your own way. Luke was right—you weren’t a swordsman, but you were damn good up close and personal. He’d taken you to the camp armory, you found a Celestial bronze dagger that spoke to you, and from then on you’d actually been doing well in training.

Your corner of the Hermes cabin didn’t feel as sad anymore, either. Luke took you to the camp store for retail therapy after you nearly burned your jeans off on the climbing wall, so now you had an AC/DC poster (courtesy of the little money you had) and an I ❤️ NY keychain to attach to your backpack (courtesy of Luke’s idle hands).

You were starting to come into your own, sure. You were doing better in training and making friends in the cabin you were stuck in and starting to get used to burning part of every meal, but the most glaring issue of all still hadn’t been resolved.

You still hadn’t been claimed.

And maybe it shouldn’t have been such an issue for you, but how could you not feel shitty? How could you see all the different tables and all the different kids talking and smiling and joking with each other that had parents who cared enough to at least claim them, and not feel unworthy?

Because you did. You felt unworthy, and it didn’t matter how many times you took your sparring partner down or bested the climbing wall or actually hit the bullseye at archery practice—your mother didn’t think you were good enough, so neither did you.

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?”

You frowned. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Luke as he sat down next to you. “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” he asked, but you were already shaking your head.

“Berkeley,” you repeated, finally glancing at him. “That’s not my name.”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you. You’re unclaimed. UC. University of California—first one I think of for you is Berkeley.”

You were staring now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’ve got tons of UCs. I’ve gotta keep track of them all somehow,” Luke said, and he pointed at campers both at your table and walking around as he talked. “That’s LA, Irvine, Davis—the others aren’t here, but you get the gist.” He looked back at you. “Been savin’ Berkeley for someone special.”

“Oh gods,” you said, horrified. “I’ve got to get claimed.”

One of the girls at the table—Irvine?—rolled her eyes as she stood up and flicked Luke on the head. “Be nice,” she said before walking away. All he did was smile.

“Maybe give it to someone else,” you said. “I don’t feel special.”

Luke’s brows creased. “If you don’t like it—”

“It’s fine,” you said. “The name doesn’t bother me. The reason I have it does.”

His eyes softened as he said your actual name. “It’s only been a month. You’ve still got plenty of time.”

You looked across at the Hebe girl you’d become friends with—Marisol, if you remembered right—and hoped that your eyes didn’t show the desperation you felt. “How long did it take for you?”

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Six months. But it probably won’t be that long for you.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” you mumbled. But it had been a month, and you hadn’t gotten a single sign.

“Because it’s true,” Luke urged. “Whoever your mom is will notice you—you’ve been killing it lately.”

“Really,” you said flatly, “I’ve been killing it.”

“Yes,” he said. “You don’t know it because you’ve only got your own experience—you went from nearly dead on our doorstep to taking down most of your opponents.”

“In training,” you said.

“That still counts!” Luke exclaimed. “Y’know, you’re holding yourself back. You’re incredible, but you’re the only one that seems to not notice it.”

“And my—”

“Do not say your mom,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “We’re not talking about the gods right now, we’re talking about you. And you, Bee, are killing it.”

That gave you pause. “Bee?”

“I’m trying to get you back up and you focus on the nickname?” Luke asked wryly.

“Just explain it,” you said.

“Bee shortened from Berkeley,” he said. “Not fully unclaimed, but still something special.”

God, you hated him. You’d been feeling shitty for a majority of your month here, but he always managed to make you smile.

“Sure,” you said.

“And a little annoying,” he added, earning himself a jab in the side as he laughed, “with a bit of a sting.”

“Aren’t you just so clever?” you mused, though you couldn’t help your smile widening.

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

For the rest of a less than exciting lunch, Luke kept you occupied. Whether it was stories of his life before camp, or the couple of months that earned him counselor before you got here, or getting the other campers at the Hermes table to talk about themselves, he made sure you didn’t get a chance to spiral.

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

As you finished cleaning up, Marisol turned to you. “Me and a couple other girls were gonna go play volleyball—do you wanna come with us?”

“Yeah,” you said, and your smile grew. “Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.”

“‘Course!” she exclaimed, and she linked arms with you. “I’d be a fool not to get you on my team after you took down Liam yesterday.”

She continued to talk as she pulled you along, and you looked back at Luke. He chuckled and gave you a thumbs up. “Go get ‘em, Bee!”

You gave him one back, and as you turned back to Marisol, you found that you couldn’t stop smiling.

—

It was two in the morning and you couldn’t stop crying.

You finally had a mattress against your back, and however stiff it was, it was better than the floor. A decent amount of kids got claimed over the past month, and half the cabin left after the summer was over, so you finally had the privilege of a bunk—thankfully, Marisol did too, and she was below you.

At least, until the summer-only campers that all the Hermes kids liked more than you returned. Then it was back to the floor.

Unless you got claimed before then. But that was less likely than being able to muster some good will from your cabin mates.

Because it was embarrassing, truly. You’d been at camp for four months now, and you hadn’t even gotten a single goddamn peep from whoever your mother might be. You just woke up every day on the floor, moseyed about a camp that still didn’t feel like home, burned offerings to a god that didn't want you, and went back to sleep on the floor.

And now you were crying in a bed that was barely even yours and it was two in the morning and you were wondering if it would have just been better for you to die on the road to camp the first time, because at least then your mother might have actually paid attention to you.

“Hey.”

And now you were really wishing you’d died because you’d woken someone up and they’re just gonna hate you more—

“Are you okay?”

You finally turned your head from where it had been buried in a pillow, a laissez-faire attempt to suffocate yourself or maybe just muffle the noise, and you saw Luke Castellan. Counselor of a cabin of thieves, vagabonds, and rejects, and maybe the only person that you didn’t want to see you like this. All that good will, the unearned faith you’d accumulated—this was the easiest way to lose it. His eyebrows were creased, and his whisper held what sounded like concern, but he was required to be concerned.

You nodded, still not moving, still not speaking. Tears rolled down your cheeks and stained the bed sheet.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more believable than that, Bee,” Luke murmured.

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back.

You got the tiniest huff of a laugh out of him, and he gestured towards the closed door with his head. “Wanna take a second?”

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled.

“And you’re miserable,” Luke said. “You can’t feel any worse getting eaten by harpies than you do now.”

Still, you stared at him.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Right outside the cabin. Harpies won’t even know.”

You rubbed a hand across your face, coming away wet with tears, and you realized that he wasn’t just going to leave you like this. So you got up as quietly as you could, careful not to disturb your bunkmates, and followed Luke. He pushed the door open and shut so quietly you wondered how many times he’s snuck out.

The cold air was sobering, and you wiped away more tears before wrapping your arms around yourself. Camp Half-Blood was always supposed to have perfect weather, but you guess not even they were immune to November nights.

“So,” Luke started, and in your peripherals you could see him leaning against the side of the cabin. You could feel his gaze on you, and you just stared off into the distance.

“So,” you repeated.

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying in the middle of the night?” he asked.

“Not really,” you said, because it felt ridiculous that a boy your age was acting like he’s ten years your elder.

Luke chuckled and tipped his head. “Fair. You want to say anything at all?”

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

He shook his head. “I was already up. I’m a light sleeper.”

“Seems rough in a cabin like this,” you said.

“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You frowned, because now it really felt like he was babying you. Luke must have caught on, because he laughed a bit and shook his head.

“Demigods have… extremely vivid dreams,” he said. “Typically horrific nightmares. Sometimes prophetic.”

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. The gods can’t interfere in mortal affairs, so I guess it’s their way of letting us know what’s wrong.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “No nightmares, thankfully. Just… feeling overwhelmed.”

“About what?” he asked. “I told you you’ve been doing great.”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” you said wryly. “It doesn’t mean I believe it.”

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” he asserted.

You huffed a laugh. “It’s been four months, Luke. Four months since I got here after nearly dying in five different states, and I don’t even know who’s responsible for it.”

“Ah,” Luke said. “The unclaimed thing.”

“Yeah,” you said wryly. “I guess you could call it that.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he shook his head. “It’s a bigger deal than that, I know.”

“Maybe it isn’t,” you said. “There’s at least six other kids in there dealing with the same thing as I am, and none of them are waking up their counselor in the middle of the night with their tears.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Luke said with surprising conviction. “Like your feelings aren’t valid. Because they are.”

You crossed your arms. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“They are,” he insisted. “A— and you’re not bothering me. We’re friends, and we help each other. I care about you, y’know.”

“I never said I was bothering you,” you said wryly.

“You thought it,” Luke said. “I know you did.”

“...Maybe.” You sighed and shook your head as you looked out at the stars. They really were beautiful here. “I just can’t help but be bitter about all this, and I feel so shitty about it.”

“Would it make you feel better to know you’re not the only one that thinks that?” he asked.

“A little, yeah.” You glanced at him. “No one else seems too bothered that their parents are never around.”

“Most of them have accepted that it’s just the way it is,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Have you?”

Luke sighed after a moment of reluctance. “I… I have a complicated relationship with my dad because he was around. It was almost… worse to know him, and then to have him leave.”

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” you quoted.

“I don’t know about that,” Luke murmured. “But it certainly helps to talk about it.”

You glanced over to see him gazing off into the distance, a look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. This was the most he’d ever talked about his past to you, you realized—and it still wasn’t much.

“When were you claimed?” you asked after a moment of contemplation.

Luke shrugged. “I never really had to be. Hermes stayed with my mom for a year after I was born, and she told me who he was when I was a little older. I’ve known basically my whole life—he had no reason not to claim me as soon as I got to camp.”

“So you’re saying my dad could be keeping secrets from me too,” you said.

“He might not know,” Luke said. “A lot of times, they don’t talk about it. Sometimes, we don’t find out until a monster’s trying to kill us on a field trip.”

You huffed. “What a great existence we’ve been blessed with.”

Luke smiled, though it was tighter than usual. He let out a deep breath, then fully turned to you.

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

You frowned. “It’s under my pillow. Why?”

“Under your—” Luke stared for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. “A little paranoid?”

You shrugged. “You said it yourself. You’re a cabin of thieves.”

“True,” he admitted. “How’d you like to get some of this emotion out?”

“We’re sneaking out even more?”

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised.

“You always say that,” you said. “Eventually, it’s not gonna be true.”

He laughed and gestured at the door. “Get your dagger. We’re gonna make this a very bad night for some mannequins.”

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

You huffed as you ripped your dagger out of the dummy, a few strands of straw coming out of the new hole you’d torn in its forehead, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. “Are you kidding? This was a great idea.”

“Not this part,” he said. “The ‘being alone with you during a rage’ part.”

“I’m not in a rage,” you muttered as you slashed at the breastplate, “I’m blowing off steam.”

Luke hummed. “And you thought you weren’t a good fighter.”

You stabbed at the armor again then rammed your fist into its head, and you took a step back as the mannequin thudded to the ground. “I guess I just need to think about my mom before I go into battle.”

“Y’know, Bee,” Luke said, “you scare me sometimes.”

You shook your head, wiping your blade on your night shirt to get any debris off as you turned around. “You’re really gonna stick with that?”

“I told you I’d stop if you didn’t like it.”

“It’s not that. I just…” You sighed and shook your head again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.” Luke crossed his arms. “Everything you have to say matters.”

“Not if I say it doesn’t,” you countered, and you looked at him. “Who do you think it could be?”

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded.

“Definitely not Apollo,” Luke said. “You’re way too dreary to be a kid of the god of the sun.”

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.”

Luke shrugged. “You asked.”

“Well— who else?” You picked the dummy back up and dusted the armor off. “Athena, maybe? I’m smart.”

“Not smart enough to not be out past curfew with me,” he said.

“You suggested this,” you scoffed. “And I definitely needed it. If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“And why do you think that would work?” he asked, amused.

“You’re the camp’s golden boy,” you said. “I doubt you’d get in much trouble.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding. “Or you just think I’m good enough to talk my way out of it.”

You tilted your head. “That too.”

“I never thought Ares before,” Luke chuckled, “but after all this, I think you might have it in you.”

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Luke said. “She just tried to kill you that one time.”

“And that other time during capture the flag,” you said. “She’s out for blood, Luke.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “She always is. She’s probably already moved onto her next victim.”

“I hope so.”

“Maybe Aphrodite?” he suggested. “You’re awfully pretty.”

You rolled your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Luke corrected.

You huffed a laugh but couldn’t help the slightest smile as you shook your head. “It’s not Tyche, at least. I have the worst luck.”

“Maybe you’re a Big Three kid,” he said. “How do you feel about the sky?”

“I like it,” you said.

“The ocean?”

“Not so much.”

“And the darkness?”

You huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not a Big Three kid, Luke. Even I know that.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can never know for sure until you’re claimed.”

“If I was, I would be the biggest disappointment,” you said, looking at your reflection in your dagger. “Breaking their pact for a kid that can barely fight.”

“Why do you always do that?”

Luke’s voice had lost the joking edge from before, and when you glanced over at him, he was frowning.

“Do what?”

“You always put yourself down,” he said. “You don’t even give yourself a chance to believe that you’ll be great, or that you’ll succeed—you’re just a coward, or a failure, or worthless at the first bump in the road.”

“Luke—”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that you are so, so much more than whatever that shitty voice in your head says.”

You went silent. Any words you could have even said stuck in your throat.

“This is not an easy life,” Luke asserted. “We’re thrown into an ocean before we know how to swim, and we have to find the shore all on our own or die trying. We—” he laughed, but there was no heart in it— “we’ve got our parents above us that could guide us, could save us, but most of the time they refuse to even acknowledge us. And we’ve got every single goddamn obstacle in the way trying to kill us.”

He inclined his head towards you. “But in spite of all that, you’re alive. You’re still here. You’re pushing through everything in your path, and you are still fucking here. Do you get that?”

“…I’m still here,” you repeated, and your hands clenched into fists. It had never felt more right to have your dagger in your hand.

Luke nodded resolutely. “And you’ve got a couple lifeboats to help along the way.”

“You mean it?” Your voice came out softer than you thought, in stark contrast to the stiffness of your bones, but you felt like a kid all over again.

“With all my heart,” he promised. “For as long as you’re here, I’ll be here.”

Your throat tightened, and the telltale beginnings of tears pricked behind your eyes. This time, when you spoke, your voice was little more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

You nodded, maybe a few too many times, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your dagger. “It’s late. We should get back before we actually get in trouble.”

Luke nodded too, and he helped you move the dummy back into place. You hated how your heart jumped into your throat when your hands brushed for the barest moment, but thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you for this.” You played with your hands as Luke finished putting everything else away—extra insurance to make sure no one knew you were here—and only managed to make eye contact just as he looked at you. “It… it really helped.” More than he knew, you were sure.

Luke smiled, and he offered you his arm. “Always.”

You took it, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Just… don’t tell anyone about the crying.”

He chuckled as you started walking together. “After the way you’ve been handling that dagger? I’d be a fool.“

“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.”

“You were the one who said you wanted to spend time with me,” he said, giving you a crooked smile. “Spending time with me after the worst cabin inspection ever means cleaning the place head to toe for our next one.”

“Is skipping dinner really worth it though?” you asked as you scooped up a pile of dirty clothes and tossed it into the basket between you two.

“It’s the only time this place is completely empty,” he said. “I told you I could handle it alone—you’re the one that insisted on helping.”

“Maybe I do want to be a Big Three kid,” you grumbled. “At least I’d only be cleaning up my own mess.”

“You’d also have the wrath of the gods and every monster in the world to deal with,” he said.

You shook your head. “A small price to pay for a clean cabin.”

“And then you wouldn’t get to see me when you wake up every day,” he mused. “A much bigger price to pay.”

You huffed as you dropped to your knees, reaching under a bed to grab a stray camp tee. “Keep talking, pretty boy. It won’t clean the floors.”

Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’ve got the messiest cabin in the world,” you said. “We’ve gotten the lowest rating every day for the past two weeks. I’ve been here for seven months now, and I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a full five.”

“Which is why you’re helping me!” he said. “Because you’re as sick of scrubbing the pegasi stables as I am.”

“You’re the counselor here!” you exclaimed. “You’ve gotta whip your siblings into shape.”

Luke gestured at you. “You’re basically my co-counselor. It’s just as much your responsibility.”

“And just what makes you think that?” you marveled.

“You’re the person in the cabin I like the most,” he said, “and we spend a lot of time together. That’s enough to make you my partner.”

“My stuff is always clean,” you said. “It’s you and the rest of the Hermes kids that’ve gotten us stuck in the stables and the kitchens every afternoon. Not me.”

You started remaking the unmade bed—would it kill any of the Hermes kids to make theirs right after they got up?—and shook your head. “It’s just not fair. Aphrodite’s cabin is basically Barbie’s Dreamhouse, and Demeter kids can grow plants to make it all pretty. We’ve just got a cabin of slobs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but when you glanced at him, you saw he was smiling. “It’ll all be fine.”

“You always say that.” You got the fitted sheet into all the corners then looked at him full-on. “Even when it’s not about something as stupid as laundry. How do you know?”

Luke shrugged as he nudged a ladder to a top bunk back into place. “I don’t. I just hope for the best.”

“How do you do that?” you asked. “How does anyone here do that? I feel like I’m the most pessimistic person here.”

“Every single one of us is an anomaly,” Luke said. “Freaks of nature. By all accounts of logic, we shouldn’t exist. But we do. All of mythology does. And when we have to literally fight for our lives for every single day, it doesn’t do much good to sweat the small stuff.”

“All I do is sweat the small stuff,” you grumbled, and you stretched your back out before you continued. “D’you think they’ll get annoyed that we just pooled all their laundry together again?”

“Nah,” Luke said. “If they didn’t want to have to pick all their stuff out after we so graciously do the laundry for them, they would keep their things clean in the first place.”

You chuckled and shook your head as you finished laying out the sorry excuse for a comforter—it would end up on the floor five seconds into the night, but Sisyphus and the boulder and all that—and sat down on the fruits of your labor. “I think this mess is the one thing I won’t miss when I get claimed.”

“You’re not as down about that as you used to be,” Luke noted.

“You know how they say a watched pot never boils?”

He actually laughed at that as he leaned against a bed post. “If you don’t care, you’ll get claimed faster?”

You shrugged. “Nothing else has worked. And like you said—don’t sweat the small stuff, right?”

“Like you said— all you do is sweat the small stuff.”

“Maybe I’m gonna try and turn over a new leaf,” you mused.

“I think that would be good for you,” he said. “You’ve been happier lately. It’s good to see you happy.”

“You’ve been watching?” you asked wryly.

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.”

You ignored the warmth stirring in your chest as you shrugged. “I’ve spent way too much time this year being sad over things I can’t control. Might as well start focusing on the things I can.”

“And to think,” he mused, “this is the same girl that wanted nothing to do with me when we first talked.”

“Oh, please,” you said dryly, “I’ve always wanted something to do with you.”

“And you still understand that flattery gets you everywhere,” Luke said with a grin. He pushed himself up and held out his hand. “C’mon—this place is clean enough. I think if we run, we can still make dinner.”

“Think we’ll get in trouble for partially skipping?” you asked as you stood up and took his hand, swinging your intertwined hands a bit as you walked together.

Luke chuckled as he pushed the door open and you walked out. “After the work we did here? We should be hailed as saints.”

“Luke,” you whispered.

His eyes shot wide open as he jolted up, and you had to stifle your laugh at his bewildered expression before he realized it was you.

He said your name groggily, rubbing his eyes as he kept himself propped up with his other arm. “What d’you need?”

“The stars,” you said. “They’re beautiful tonight.”

“So are you,” he mumbled. “You don’t see me waking you up in the middle of the night to tell you that.”

“Luke,” you said, but you couldn’t help your smile. “On topic.”

“The stars,” he said, barely nodding in his addled state. “Good for them. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“No, Luke—” you laughed softly and took his hand. “Come stargazing with me.”

He closed his eyes, but he didn’t take his hand away. “You’re insane.”

“Please,” you said. “I could never see the stars at home, not like this. They’re brighter than I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s so late,” he complained. “Can we do it in the morning?”

“Do you know what stargazing is?” you asked, amused.

“Hey, lovebirds.” The annoyed, tired voice of a camper rang out as they hit the wall. “Take it outside so we can sleep.”

Again, you had to bite back a laugh. Luke looked like he was holding back a groan, but he got up anyway, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. You moved to the door as quietly as possible, and you waited until he joined you on the small porch.

“Thank you,” you said, hearing the door close, “and sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Luke covered up his yawn as he held a jacket out for you. “Put this on. I’m not gonna be responsible for you getting a cold because you want to stargaze in February.”

Your eyebrows rose as you took it. “Is this yours?”

“Don’t think too much into it,” he said, but he had the slightest smile on his lips. “You wanna see the stars, right? Let’s see ‘em.”

“Not here,” you said, shaking your head as you zipped up the maroon hoodie. You held out your hand once you finished. “Do you trust me?”

“Oh, gods,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re doing a trust exercise too?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you remarked. You took his hand and started dragging him along, a clear spot in mind.

“You’re kidding me,” he said in exasperation. “I thought we were just gonna look at the sky for a couple minutes— you’re taking me to a second destination?”

“Hey,” you said, “don’t sweat the small stuff.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to use that on the harpies when they catch us and eat us,” Luke said offhandedly. “‘I’m sorry, ma’am—we’re really trying not to sweat the small stuff.’”

You laughed as you continued on your way, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Luke smiling too, despite himself. Suddenly, though, his grip tightened on your hand and he pulled you behind one of the thicker columns of the pavilion.

“Wh—”

He shook his head then gestured with it to the other side of the pavilion. One of the harpies—Aello, if you remembered correctly from Chris’s rant the past week about cleaning dishes—was walking past, muttering things to herself.

“Speak of the devil,” you marveled. You definitely weren’t a child of Tyche.

Luke gave you a look that quite clearly said be quiet, and for some reason that only made you want to laugh more. He must have seen that glint in your eye that he’d grown used to, because he placed his hand over your mouth right before the dam was about to burst.

You squeezed his hand tight as you tried to keep yourself from blowing your cover while Luke occupied himself with actually watching to make sure your path would clear. You were pressed right up against each other, and even through the jacket, even in the cold, you could feel his body warmth. He did say he ran hot.

Eventually, Luke let out a labored sigh and let his hand drop, and you wheezed, nearly doubling over.

“There is something wrong with you,” he said. He was barely able to hold back his own amusement.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “that was awful.”

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed.

“How was it my fault?” you argued. “You’re the counselor here—you’re meant to be the responsible one!”

“I was being responsible!” Luke laughed again as he ran his hand through his hair then used it to gesture at you. “You were the one that nearly got us caught—you were the one who wanted to be out here in the first place!”

“Right,” you said, pointing your finger, “we gotta get to the beach.”

“Stargazing on the beach,” Luke marveled. “Definitely worth nearly getting eaten.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said as you continued to pull him along. “You could’ve said no.”

He squeezed your hand for a moment. “We both know I can never say no to you.”

Once you got to the beach you let go of his hand and laid down, taking care not to get sand in your sneakers. Luke sat down next to you but stayed up, watching the tide go in and out.

At night, without a hundred campers running around making all the noise they can, you actually felt like you could breathe.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” It almost felt wrong to break the sacred silence, to insert yourself in the ambiance of nature working together in all its glory.

“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was softer than usual, that rough edge you’d grown used to absent in the face of calmer seas. “Yeah. It’s…”

“Serene,” you suggested.

“Beautiful,” he said. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you.

“Very smooth,” you said wryly. “Now stop flirting and look at the stars.”

Luke chuckled lightly as he let himself fall back. His hand bumped yours as he adjusted his position, and your breath caught in your throat for the barest moment. You moved it away.

The two of you laid there together in silence gazing at the stars for what felt like forever. The gentle waves coming to shore then leaving, the scattering of sand from quiet winds, and not a single angry car horn or police siren.

You missed home, the city. You were headstrong in your belief that Detroit was better than New York. But gods—sometimes, you just couldn’t beat camp.

You didn’t know what possessed you to break the silence. But something had been tugging at you since the moment you laid down on the beach, and so you did.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.”

“I…” you trailed off for a moment, but you bolstered yourself. “I’m scared of what comes next.”

You heard Luke shift in the sand and felt his eyes on you. “What do you mean?”

“After this,” you said. “The honeymoon phase of being a demigod.”

He huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t say we have a honeymoon phase.”

“You know what I mean.” A shiver went down your spine and you put your arms on your chest. Like a coffin. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I think you need to stop getting up in the middle of the night,” he said. “It seems you have all your existential crises then.”

You exhaled out your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh. “I’ve heard about quests—how they can happen for no reason except a god’s will, to— to prove that you’re worthy. And all I can think about is that my mother will never claim me until I prove I’m worthy or die trying.”

Luke was silent. You could feel your throat closing up, the threatened onslaught of tears. You blinked them back.

“All my life, I have never felt seen,” you murmured. “And I’m terrified that the only way I will be seen is when I die.”

“Look at me.”

You turned your head—Luke’s eyes were piercing in the moonlight.

“I don’t care what anyone says, especially that voice in your head—you’re worth everything and more,” he said. “And you are worth so much more than becoming a martyr for a god’s approval.”

“I wish you could tell my mom that,” you mumbled.

“I would march right up to Olympus and say it to her face,” he said. “And if it bothers her that much, she can smite me right now.”

That got a breathy laugh out of you from the pure absurdity. Luke’s eyes flicked to the sky as he waited, and when he didn’t instantly die a horrific death, his gaze went back to you.

“I see you,” Luke promised, his voice low. “And I’ll make everyone see you the way I do. I swear it.”

You were starstruck. You couldn’t look away from him, from the determination etched into each detail of his face, the softness in his eyes directed wholly at you—the fact that he was here at all in the first place at an unholy hour just because you asked.

Oh gods. You were in trouble.

“It’s late.” You finally managed to break the spell that held you under. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” Luke made no motion to move, still focused wholly on you.

“Luke,” you whispered.

You could have sworn his eyes moved down to your lips, but he was sitting up so quickly that you knew you must have imagined it. You cleared your throat as you followed suit, brushing the sand off your—his— jacket.

“This was nice,” he said after a moment. “...Thanks for waking me up.”

“Of course,” you said. “There’s… there’s no one else I would’ve wanted to share it with.”

Luke smiled, and you didn’t think he’d ever looked more beautiful than he did now, awash in the silver moonlight. If you were braver, you would have taken his hand again. You would’ve done what the voice in your head desperately wanted to do—had wanted to do for the past two months.

But you didn’t.

“I guess it was worth nearly getting eaten, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he shrugged. “But most things are worth it when it comes to you.”

You nearly melted right there, and it was a credit to your strength that you didn’t say anything horrifically stupid. Instead, you put on a smile, hoped he couldn’t see how much he was killing you, and started back up on the path.

“C’mon,” you said. “Before we end up having to clean the entire camp for breaking curfew.”

“Whatever you say,” he mused.

You groaned as you slumped into your usual spot at the Hermes table. You heard Luke laugh, and you felt his eyes on you as you put your head in your arms.

“What’s got you so down?”

“I’ve been fifteen for three days and I already feel like an old woman,” you said. “Everything still hurts.”

“Capture the flag was meant to be a birthday gift,” Luke said wryly. “And we did win.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you grumbled. “I swear, some people went after me on purpose just because it was my birthday. I’ve got bruises all over.”

“You know, we have an infirmary for a reason.”

“They’re battle wounds,” you said. You picked up your head just to take your goblet. “Lemonade. Actually, pink lemonade.” You took a sip, but even that didn’t make you feel better. You buried your head back in your arms with a rough sigh. “Signs of our victory.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “Sometimes I really don’t…”

He trailed off suddenly, and you heard a collective gasp go up at the table.

“What?” you asked halfheartedly.

“You— you’re—”

You didn’t know why he couldn’t finish his sentence. You picked your head up to see Luke’s face awash in golden light, his eyes wide. Everyone else at the Hermes cabin was just as awestruck, and Marisol fumbled around in her purse until she pulled out her compact. She opened her foundation, the mirror pointing at you, and you realized why.

A glowing, golden, translucent sickle with a few sheaths of wheat floated above your head. You frowned.

Before you had the chance to say anything, Luke was yelling your name and tackling you in a hug. You let out a grunt of surprise as you barely managed to brace yourself, and when he pulled away he was smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“You’re claimed!” he exclaimed, his hands gripping your shoulders. “You— you’re finally claimed!”

“Demeter,” you said, almost absentmindedly. It still hadn’t quite hit you.

“Demeter,” he repeated, nodding rapidly, that gigantic smile seeming like a permanent feature at this point. “I told you everyone would see you— I told you we would make them see you the way I do!”

The rest of the table was chattering away, and you could feel Chris patting you on the back and saying words that went in one ear and out the other. The rest of the pavilion was starting to catch word, and you could see a couple kids from a table on the opposite end standing up and craning to see. Maybe your new siblings.

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings.

…Your new cabin.

You could still barely think, like there was static in your brain. Luke’s hands on your shoulders were the only thing grounding you.

(You should be ecstatic.)

A year of tears, silent prayers, and apathetic resolution had finally come to a close, just days after your fifteenth.

(Why are you not smiling?)

You’d been claimed. But you didn’t think you’d ever felt more lost.

#also you may notice. that these include the flashbacks mentioned at the end of bleedin me dry. bc i enjoy hurting people #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

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ohtobeleah · 10 months ago

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Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Eleven: [The Man]

Summary: When Jake and Jensen go head to head over who means what yo you, things escalate to new heights, so much so that Jake lashes out and says something that may not be forgiven.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion. JEALOUS JAKE!

Word Count: 5.6K

Author Note: This chapter brings the total word count of this series to 50k....I cannot believe that an idea that began as a one-shot has turned into this. Thank you all so much for your support on this one. xxx

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

There was a brief moment right before your shower where Jake was able to step out into the hall to call his sister Jasmine. He knew the call he was about to make was going to be neither short, nor pleasant. But he also knew that deep down, you weren’t mentally prepared to tell your children you were sick. But the pair of you had to start somewhere. And that somewhere was Jake’s sister.

“What the FUCK is going on!” One single ring. One dial. That's how long it took Jake's sister to answer, hell, Jake thought it would have been sooner but he gave her a little good grace for potentially having to step out of whatever family dynamic she found herself in. “Mum said Y/n’s sick?”

“Did she say it like that?” Jake replied unamused as he found an empty chair to sit on in the waiting room area down the hall. He didn't want to stray too far away from your room. Although he knew that you were with the nurses, he couldn't find it inside himself to leave. If Jake tried hard enough, he could still see your bed socks at the end of your hospital bed.

“Uh–” Jasmine's apprehensive silence confirmed all Jake needed to know. “She may have said it with a little hope in her chest, mentioned the words dropped and dead in the same sentence of wishful thinking.” Jake couldn’t say he was surprised after the way Janeen had spoken so poorly about you directly to his face. He couldn't really imagine what she’d been saying to other members of the Seresin family. “But what's going on? I'm keeping an eye on the kids as much as I can but holy shit mum's just on a warpath–”

Fuck: Jake knew leaving the kids behind was a bad idea on his behalf. The guilt of running off on his children in the middle of the night was beginning to eat him alive. The idea of lying to them about your condition only made that guilt harder to rationalise.

“Okay, can you just promise me you won’t tell the kids?” Jake groaned into the phone. “Y/n doesn't want them to worry so she doesn't want to say too much.”

“Jake–” Jasmine's voice changed, the serious nature of the conversation at hand was beginning to shine through with ease. “She's alright, isn't she?” Jasmine asked as Jake let his elbows rest on top of his thighs. This whole situation, the newly found world of which you were living in was begging to give Jake the head spins. Keeping up was exhausting, but this wasn't about Jake now was it. “This is Y/n we’re talking about, she has to be alright.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jake had been reading all your files, all your reports, everything and anything he could get his hands on about your diagnosis. After all, he had been named your emergency contact not long after showing up. He’d made a convincing case. Jake knew a lot about your current situation. He knew the odds, chances, risks and possibilities.

“She's been diagnosed with Stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma.” Jake explained to his sister who on the other end of the call, sat watching his youngest try to eat the sand from the sandpit Jake himself used to shit in as a child. “The oral chemo they had her started on caused a stroke, apparently it's a common side effect, to me they shouldn't be pumping people full of that crap if its gonna cause a fucking stroke forty percent of the time.”

Jake knew the silence on the other end of the line was due to an overload of information getting caught in his sister's cerebellum. It was a lot to take in, hell Jake still hadn’t really been given an opportunity to take it all in. since he found out he’d been go go go. He knew an impending moment of weakness mixed with overall exhaustion was coming. When that moment would come he wasn't sure.

“You’re lying–” Was all Jasmine said. Jake wished more than anything he could say he was.

“Fucked up thing to lie about Jas–” Jake responded softly as he listened to the hustle and bustle of the hospital wing his sat in. “She hadn’t been feeling well for a few months, Doctors say it's aggressive, feeds off her hormones and stuff.” Jake didn't understand a lot of it, but he was trying his best to navigate a field he wasn't an excerpt in. “She's in for a preventative double mastectomy on Christmas Eve. It would've been earlier but the strokes kinda set her back a few days.”

“Jake– I don't believe you, the kids–what about the kids, what do I tell them?” Jasmine couldn't comprehend the devastation this would cause on the already struggling family dynamic. You and Jake were meant to be, everyone knew that. But this whole separation, the miscommunication and overall fractures within your marriage were all major contributing factors as to why love just couldn’t be enough.

“Don't tell them anything, please, for the love of God Jas don't tell them anything, I just–” Jake let out a sigh of frustration as he ran his hand free hand through his hair. God he needed a haircut. “We just need a little time to process what's going on and Y/n–she's been doing this for too long on her own, I can’t keep letting her down so just, take a moment to breathe for me.”

“Holy fuck you aren’t kidding about any of this are you?” Jasmine with all her good graces and problematic marital issues of her own, looked over at where her husband sat with hers and Jake's father. The sight was enough to send a shiver down her spine. The man who raised her was not someone who Jasmine ever wanted her brother to become. Losing your wife to such a disease that was as unforgiving as it was inhumane could potentially be an origin story bubbling under the surface of Jake's skin.

“Jake–You don't get to turn into dad if this ends anything less than Y/n walking away from this cancer free Jake, your kids deserve to have a dad that won't treat them like burdens and mistakes.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Watch your step alright?” Our skulls are designed to cushion our brains. Our rib cages are specifically moulded to guard our hearts. The human body is built to protect our most vulnerable parts. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.

The way in which Jake helped to guide you out of the bathroom with his hand pressed firmly against the small of your back made your heart skip a beat. You held tightly onto his forearm with one hand and in the other? Was your IV poll, still pumping you full of antibiotics and fluids.

“I got it.” You tried to focus on just putting one foot in front of the other. That's what this whole thing was about right? This battle, this fight. It was all about putting one foot in front of the other. With Jake by your side, albeit with some underlying resentment still to be discussed, you felt as though those steps, small but meaningful in their own right, were made with intent and purpose to keep fighting. “Shit the air-con feels so weird on my head.” You chuckled to yourself as Jake shut the bathroom door behind the both of you.

“Yeah holy shit it's like–” As Jake's eyeline faltered from you to the figure standing over near the door, his heart sunk into his stomach. His face turned to stone as the green in his eyes, usually an emerald colour, darkened to something more pine-like. The half finished sentence that left your husband's mouth and tailed off into complete and utter silence was what got your attention the most. It wasn't like Jake to not say what was on his mind.

“What's up?” As you turned your head slowly, you saw the man who had been nothing but a pillar of support for you to lean on since your diagnosis. It was the man who had kept you above water when you felt like you’d been drowning in a sea of unprecedented mortality. “Jensen–” The shock and excitement in your tone was something Jake couldn't miss no matter how much he wanted to. “You came?”

Jake made no attempt to move as you shuffled forward, he stood still with his heart hammering inside his chest. He stood completely still as his thoughts carried him away into a world where nothing made sense to anyone. Into a world where he didn't have you, a world where for the last year he’d tasted of that very misery and hated every last second of it.

“I uh–” Jensen held out the bouquet of sweet peas, peonies and pansies he’d brought for you. The overwhelming colours and signature scents captivated the entire room with their freshness. “I wanted to stop by, see how you were doing, hope I'm not intruding?”

The body tends to adapt quickly to new circumstances and pressures it’s put under. It knows how to protect itself. But it can’t close off completely, or well—we’re not really living are we? Biology tends to override our fears, so we leave the door open, just a little…hoping like hell that it's worth the risk.

“Oh no, no we just finished up some DIY haircuts.” You beamed, the smile that ignited across your face was a smile Jake hadn't seen in years. A smile so pure and full of love that it couldn't ever be faked. “Jake, this is Jensen.” You introduced the two men who had played significant roles in your life, having no clue that they had both already met one another in the hall. “We met at the doctors office, as unfortunate as that sounds, it's been really nice to have someone who just, knows.” Jake slowly but surely aided you over to your bed before he made his way over to where Jensen stood watching idly. Assessing the situation unfolding before him. “Jensen convinced me to go to a few of those CCA meetings, although not my cup of tea–it's nice to know that that support system is there.”

Jake eyed Jensen and his bouquet of flowers off as he stepped closer and closer with a look Jensen couldn't quite read in his pine green eyes. The betrayal of love often has boundaries that people end up living with for the rest of their lives. For Jake, his betrayal and the consequences of his emotional ineptitude inside his marriage was starting to play out right before his very eyes.

He saw the potential that there was in fact another man. And oh boy did he hate it.

“And Jensen, this is Jake, my husband.” Jensen took subtle notice of the way you introduced Jake to him as your husband, not your ex-husband like you'd been referring to him as since the two of you first met. Something had changed, Jensen could sense it. But for as much as Jensen could sense the chemistry between you and Jake, Jake could see the way your eyes lit up with overjoyous surprise when you realised that the flowers Jensen held in his hand were in fact for you. “Are those, are those for me?”

“Oh–yeah.” Jensen beamed as he walked a little further into your room. “I thought they might bring a little light into your room but it seems that you have it pretty well decorated.” It was the small nod to the Christmas lights that hung around your room that made you smile even brighter as Jake made his way back over and helped you into bed. You could tell there was tension brewing just from his quietness alone. “And the new haircut suits you, good thing you don't have a weird ass head huh?”

“Hey Jarred–” Jake interrupted before you had a chance to reply, the way he intentionally called Jensen by a different name rubbed you the wrong way. The frown that cast itself across your face left little to Jake's imagination, but as he made sure you were as comfortable as could be in your bed, he kept going. “Nows, probably not a good time–”

Jensen looked around your room carefully, he knew the system well and what times were more common than not for nurses to do their daily rounds and check-ins. He knew that by the looks of things you had just showered and were probably settling in for the afternoon. If Jensen was correct in his assumption as he looked back towards where Jake stood at your bedside, he would assume that he couldn't have picked a better time to drop by.

“Seems like a pretty good time to me man, besides, why don't we let Y/n here make that call.” Jensen replied calmly as he went about finding a place for your flowers to go. Jensen could have played the safe card, he could have chosen to be the bigger person and not mention it, but he didn't really have a hell of alot to lose. After all, he was a dead man walking. What was the harm in stirring the pot a little where he still could. “Honestly, I didn't expect you to be here if I'm being completely honest.” Jensen smirked as he turned back to face Jake. You felt like your heart was about to explode right through your chest as you looked back and forth between the two men who had seemingly gotten into a mines bigger than yours contest on either side of your bedside. “Didn't think you knew your wife was sick–”

The silence was deafening as Jake thought about all the ways he could kill a man in one single motion. The rage he felt inside his chest was red hot jealousy. Jensen could practically see the steam spewing out of Jake's years.

“What my wife decides to share with me has nothing to do with you–” Jake growled, you could just see the way he was grinding his teeth. Jake's jawline had never seemed more profound. His knuckles were almost entirely white as he leaned against the railing of your hospital bed. Lowered down for convenience of getting in and out.

“It does when I’ve been the one listening to how much she wishes you loved her the same way she loves you.” Jensen shrugged. “Come on man, don't play this game, don't pretend that I don't know what been going on–”

“Enough!” You couldn't have shouted it slider if you tried. “Both of you, my god we’re all supposed to be adults here?” You sighed as you looked at Jake and then over to Jensen. Something was off with him, this wasn't the Jensen you knew. He seemed off, very off. “Can you two just back up, let's start over.” However, it was a plea that fell on deaf ears.

Remember that impending moment of weakness mixed with overall exhaustion Jake mentioned earlier? Yeah– about that. Guess it was coming around the corner sooner rather than later.

“Nah–” Jake shook his head as he let out a sigh. This was bullshit, you really had him fooled. He really did think that there was a possibility here that maybe, just maybe, the two of you could fix what he had unintentionally broken while focusing on your health. “Nah, I'm not gonna put up with this dickhead.” Jake hissed as unclenched his hands from the railing on your bed. “I'm gonna go get a coffee, try not to catch each other's cancer cells while I'm gone.”

“Jake, don't leave!” You begged as you sat up a little straighter in your bed. “Please—“ The panic that followed was something otherworldly as you watched Jake round out of the hospital room that had become your home away from home. “Please!”

Jensen was if anything, enraged. He hadn’t helped the situation but he never would have left your side after making a remark so thickly lacquered with jealousy. He didn't think Jake would react the way he did, so quick to make assumptions. The small gift Jensen still held in his hand was quickly placed on your bedside table.

“I’ll go talk to him—“ Jensen pressed his lips together as he let his hand fall gently to your shoulder. “My fault, I shouldn't have said what I did, I'm sorry.” Jensen didn't pretend to not see how upset you truly were. He understood what it was like to feel the weight of the world crushing your spirit. “He didn't mean what he said Y/n.”

“He did–” You sighed as you wiped away your tears. “He asked me when he came to take the kids to his mum's house if I was seeing anyone–”

Ah, Jensen thought to himself as he stood by your bedside and listened.

“He wants to get back together, fix what's broken, change.” You sighed as you looked over to the open door that Jake hadn't long before walked out of. “He probably thinks you're more than a friend.” In another life, perhaps Jensen could have been more than just a good friend. In another universe somewhere he hoped that maybe you never had this unforgiving disease. But this wasn't another reality, this was right now.

“All the more reason to fight for his girl.” Jensen cooed as he leaned in to kiss the top of your now very smooth head. “I'll go talk to your husband.”

You caught onto the not so subtle subtlety of the way Jensen teased that title. Husband. Jake Seresin was still very much your husband. He was the very definition of a man who was supposed to be at your side through thick and thin. But right now? You were doubting his ability to fully comprehend what was happening to you. Jake’s focus shouldn’t have been on Jensen and who he was to you. But yet you couldn’t not defend him.

“He’s not a bad guy, he’s really not—“ There was an awkward silence that lingered in the room as Jensen chose to take in what you’d said. “This is all just so much for him to take in.”

“You don’t need to explain your relationship to me.” Jensen wanted to say that if Jake was such an alright guy, then you wouldn’t have left. He wanted to remind you of all the conversations the two of you had had over the past few months. All the times you’d cried about the man who didn’t value your time, your energy, your love. “But a woman like you should never have to beg a man to stay.”

“I left him.” You felt the need to remind the man who stood at your bedside with an ora surrounding him you didn’t recognise. “I stopped begging him to love me a long time ago and you know that.”

Jensen could have thrown the fact you just called out after Jake back in your face, that you’d begged your husband not to leave. But he wasn’t that mean. He was just looking out for you. Someone had to. Someone had to make sure this Jake guy had his priorities in check and that you were at the very top of that list where you belonged.

“I know—“ Jensen pressed his lips together into a fine line. “But that guy just walked out the second things got a little more complicated, what’s gonna stop him from throwing in the towel if your health declines more than it already has?” Jensen shrugged his shoulders like he wasn’t being nasty. It was his version of tough love.

“I’m sorry—“ You scoffed as your face contorted into that of a frown mixed with frustration. “Are you, are you testing Jake?”

“Cancer is one of the world's most leading causes of divorce.” Jensen added like it was a statistic you should have known. He knew you knew it. “I just wanted to see how well he handled a little external pressure.”

“You’re—“ Before you could finish your sentence, Jensen was smiling down at you from ear to ear.

“A menace, I know, but I’m a menace that only has your best interest at heart.” Jensen explained as he sat down beside you for only a brief moment. “Your fight isn’t with Jake right now, he shouldn’t be fighting you or anyone else in your life that may come and go.”

“Jensen—“ You knew Jensen hadn’t been well, but he hadn’t explicitly told you how bad it was. There was something in his eyes though, the way he looked at you like he was looking at you for the last time that had you worried. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m just making sure if you’re letting that man back into your life that he’s gonna stick around when things don’t go the way he wants them to.” Jensen smiled softly as he picked up your hand to bring towards his lips. He left a fleeting kiss upon the palm of your hand and let out a sigh he wasn’t aware he was holding in. “I’ll go track down your sook of a husband, make sure he’s aware that you’re hopelessly devoted or whatever you wanna call it.”

“Please be nice—“ You pleaded gently as Jensen stood from your bedside. “Please.”

“Anything for you Y/n.” Jensen replied, he knew that this would be the last time he ever saw you apart from in his own version of heaven. “Anything for you.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Jake Seresin had never been a fan of hospitals. That mentality first started when he broke his leg in kindergarten and needed a full cast, but it grew with him well into adulthood. Jake had never liked hospitals, even when all three of his children were born he still hated them. Not even the love he had for his children could override the hate he felt towards the sterile environment that gave far too many infections to people to be considered ‘normal’

“Seresin.” But Jake had never hated hospitals more than he did the second he heard his last name being called from just a short distance down the hall. Called by a man who Jake would happily like to never see again. “The hell is your problem?” Jake caught the sight of the man who’d brought you flowers coming right towards him with a fire burning in his eyes. The man you had kept somewhat a secret from Jake. Much like your diagnosis.

“My problem is asking me what my problem is.” Jake groaned as he took a sip of his shitty ass hospital coffee. “Don’t you and my wife have things to talk about?” Jake asked as he took a few steps away from where Jensen had stopped in his tracks. “Things I’m not privy to as it seems? Like her health or new love life?”

“You don’t even know who I am to your wife!” Jensen barked loud enough to have Jake stopping in the middle of the hall. The six foot something aviator turned slowly on his heels to give the almost matching in height bald dude the time of day he seemed to crave. “But I know all about you, because I’ve been there for Y/n while you’ve been busy playing part time parent across the country.” Jensen had nothing to lose, he was just a dying man who had no time left to cherish.

Jake wasn’t about to stand here and take this. He didn’t need some guy who’d stepped into your life to tell him what to do. You were the mother of Jake’s children, you’d always be that to him regardless if he could fix what he broke.

“Get out of my face before you need a plastics consult.” Jake growled through gritted teeth all the while Jensen grinned. He was standing his ground as Jake continued on his defensive. “Because so help me god, you may feel like god right now with your self-righteous heart and knight in shining armour attitude, but you sure as hell won’t feel all high and mighty when you meet him.”

Jensen didn't want to fight with your husband, but he did want to make it known that time was forever fleeting, and if Jake kept going the way he was there would be no time left to fix what he broke. You needed someone to be there for you, Jake had to be that person.

Because Jensen couldn’t be that guy for you anymore, he had no fight left to give you. He had no fight left in himself.

“You know I sympathise with you Jake, I do, it must be hard being the guy who broke your own marriage to a woman who loves so fiercely and so much.” Jensen started as he let his elbows rest atop his sweatpants clad knees. “And now having to deal with the fact that said wife is dying must be a lot to work through.”

Jake remained speechless as his eyes lingered down to the man who was almost out of breath from his walk through the halls. He held his half drunk coffee cup in his hand with enough rage coursing through his veins that Jake was actually surprised he hadn’t crushed the flimsy cardboard vessel.

“But you know what the worst part of all that is? Is that your priority isn’t your wife, or fixing your marriage—“ Jensen continued on. “No, it’s on the guy who your wife chose to confide in when you were nowhere to be found.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jake replied with a hiss in his tone that mimicked the deadliest of snakes. “I couldn’t give a shit who you are to her or what you want, because she’s my fucking wife—mine!”

“And yet here you are arguing that point with me in the hall when you could be at her bedside appreciating all the small moments you’ll be lucky to look back on one day.” Jensen grew more heated as Jake took a few strides his way, towering over where Jensen sat. “You threw a fit the second I stepped into that room without using any critical thinking skills you aviators claim to have in the heat of the moment.”

“She told me she wasn’t seeing anyone! Come to find out that that’s—“ Jake didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Jensen intervened that train of thought.

“She’s not! You’re wife fucking love’s you!! She kept her prognosis from you because she was so scared you didn’t love her back enough to fucking care! And you’re hung up on the idea she’s seeing someone? Me!?” Jensen scoffed as he stood, the few strides he took towards Jake were made with intent behind every single one. Enough to have Jake stumbling back every so slightly. “Here’s a concept for you man.” Jensen pressed his index finger into Jake’s sternum. “Maybe, just maybe, if I was sleeping with your wife, she’d remember her worth.”

“You really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jake sighed, there was no way he was entertaining this delusion any more than he already had. “I think you should leave.” The idea of you being with another man sent Jake into a blind rage of jealousy that saw no reason. But at the end of the day, he was the one who walked out on you. He’d strayed too far from your hospital room and couldn’t see your bed socks anymore.

Fuck….

“Maybe, maybe I should—“ Jensen agreed. “And hell I don’t even know you at all, but from what I’ve managed to piece together? it’s that you're a crap husband who doesn’t have the emotional capacity to handle the fact his wife could lose this battle.” Jensen retaliated with a stone cold expression. “But something I do know is that no amount of prayer or candles or begging will reverse time, so put your ego side and focus on the fact your wife needs you now more than ever before and if you leave her side the way you did today ever again, trust me when I say you’ll regret it every day of your life.”

“Y/n isn’t dying—“ Much like Jensen was taking his fear of the unknown out on Jake, Jake was just about ready to let loose on the guy who was picking apart his very character. Sure, Jake recognised he wasn’t the best husband, but he also knew you weren’t dying. Not right now, not while he wasn’t by your side.

“I wasn’t either, but as it turns out we all have an expiry date.” Jensen replied. The atmosphere and energy surrounding the two men who were going head to head suddenly shifted. “Some sooner than others, but we all have one, and when yours is up yours is up and there ain't nothing you can do you extend it.”

“You’re—“ Jake couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“A walking corpse.” Jensen finished the sentence he knew Jake was trying to speak into existence. Although he didn’t care to beat around the bush. “So trust me when I tell you that wishful thinking does shit when your body decides it’s had enough.”

“Does Y/n know?” Jake's first worry was how this news, how this detrimental turn of events, would affect you. His heart forgot how to beat inside his chest when he watched Jensen shake his head in response.

“She needs to focus on her own journey, and before I go I need to make sure she has a support system because for a while there I was all she seemed to have.” Jensen explained. There it was, the truth of the matter.

Jake saw it clear as day, the care, the worry, the intention to make sure you had someone there for you because Jensen wasn’t going to be there anymore. You may not have slept with the guy standing before Jake but if Jake knew anything, it was the look of a man who was unequivocally in love with you. He saw his own reflection of Jensen's eyes.

“Go back, apologies, and you fix your marriage man because that woman? That electrifying woman who sees the good in everything doesn’t deserve to go through this alone—and you turning your back on her the second someone made things a little difficult for you isn’t a good representation of the husband she deserves.”

“You love her, don’t you?” Jake asked as he took a second to truly take in Jensens whole argument. The world seemed to go on around them, with doctors and nurses carrying out their daily duties and rounds. Family members walking to and from rooms visiting loved ones. But for Jake and Jensen? The world stopped when it came to you. “You’re in love with my wife, say it.” Jake couldn’t hide the pain in his voice. “Tell me you love her, then this all makes sense.”

“Maybe—“ Jensen tried to play his love for you down into something that was just a social construct. “Maybe I love her, but I don’t get a chance to explore that, you do though.” Jensen was truly trying to hide the pain in his eyes, but Jake could see it all too easily. Jensen knew that. “So if not for yourself, for her, pull your head out of your ass man—“

“I never stopped loving her though.” Jake sighed out in frustration as he sat down on one of the plastic hospital chairs that lined the hallway. Jensen followed soon after, both men decided that the heat of the argument was settling into something more valuable. “I just—I lost sight of what I had.”

“That’s just not a good enough excuse.” Jensen replied as he let his head fall back against the wall. “Listen, I don’t plan on coming back after I leave today.”

Jake didn’t respond, he simply waited for Jensen to explain. But the explanation never came and Jake never pressed. If anything he was kind of relieved in a selfish way.

“If you truly want to fix what’s broken, if you really want to fight for her and be by her side when she needs you the most, you’ll get up and you’ll go back in there and you’ll be the guy who gets to hold her like no one else does.” Jensen pauses momentarily before he continued on. “Because there’s better guys out there Jake, and she shouldn’t have to settle for one who doesn’t appreciate what’s right under his damn nose.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re a better man than me?” Jake asked cautiously, a part of him didn’t want the answer to be yes. But Jake needed to know what the man sitting beside him truly thought. You saw something good inside him, inside both of them.

“I’m not a better man than you Jake—“ Jensen sighed as he stood from his chair. It was getting late, he had said his peace, he had put the fear for a dying man inside Jake Seresin. There wasn’t much more Jensen could contribute to your life besides what he had already given.

“I’m just a man who’s run out of time and has nothing left to lose.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

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#was it over? // jake seresin #tw: cancer #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine

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kilojulietsierra · 4 months ago

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When You Touch Me Like That (Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!massage therapist reader)

Self indulgent maybe, but who wouldn't want to get there hands on this man!?

Your boyfriend visits you at work and suddenly can't get his mind of one specific thing.

Warnings: 18+ only content, established relationship, jealousy, inappropriate massage therapist behavior, consensual kink, sexy massage, happy ending, unprotected pinv, dirty talk, very hands on...

~~~

He had brought you lunch that day. That's how this all had started. He'd hung out in the front office, the girl working the front desk said you were finishing up with an appointment and that you'd be right out. So he'd hung out in the office and waited.

Not long after he heard a door close softly and another door close a moment later. He could hear water running for a long while and then a few minutes later you appeared.

"Jake!" Your face lit up when you saw him and it did his ego good. "What are you doing here?"

Jake was in civilian clothes; boots, jeans and a size too small t-shirt with Wayfairers hooked in the collar, "Out early today, knew who had a busy day so…" He held up a to go bag from your favorite Deli

"God bless you." You walked straight up to him for a kiss and to retrieve your lunch.

"BLT with avocado and an egg, extra runny." He smiled as you took the bag from him to inspect, "Don't worry chips and salsa too."

By this point one of the other therapists had finished an appointment and was talking to the young lady she had been working on. The two of them and the front desk receptionist all seemed to be staring on in envy and Jake couldn't help but play it up a bit. Then he saw the man come down the hallway and walk up to you. He was an older man, definitly older than you, and Jake would guess older than himself as well.

"Thank's hon, amazing as always."

Jake watched him as he walked out the door, hackles raised.

"I'm sorry we're so busy, otherwise I'd say we could eat together." Your voice snapped him out of his murderous thoughts.

"I know darlin," He bent down to drop a kiss on your forehead, "Me and some of the guys are gonna meet up at O'hargens in a bit, I'll get some wings there."

"Day drinking on a weekday? Careful Lieuteant." You had given him a cheeky smile and one last kiss, "Thank you, I love you, have fun."

"Love you too, still want me to come over tonight?"

"Of course," You rolled your eyes a little but still smiled, "Don't get tou turnt up."

Jake smiled and slid his glasses on, "Please, Ferg is the one you gotta watch out for. I'm a boy scout."

Out in the parking lot Jake was still smiling. Until he saw the guy again.

Your appointment. He was sitting in his camaro with the top down and sweat already seeping through his shirt in the Pensacola sun.

Jake eyed the man as he walked to his truck and waited for him to pull out of the parking lot first. Jealousy wasn't something Jake dealt with often, only when it came to you. Mostly when someone was looking a little more than he cared for. Occasionally when Jake remembered that your job included touching people, specifically asshats like that guy.

The whole way to the bar Jake had been grinding his teeth, thinking about that guy and that he called you hon, apparently was a regular, and Jake was certain he wasn't getting regular massages for chronic back pain. Then somehow after a few beers with the boys from the squadron a wire had gotten crossed in his brain.

Which is how he ended up looking away from the game on tv and over to you where you were reading at the other end of the couch. "Darlin, would you give me a massage tonight?"

"Sure babe," You paused for a minute to finish a sentence in your book before looking up, "You sore or something?"

Your hands were amazing and you gave the best massages, Jake was lucky and he knew that. He had free access to you for every ache and pain a hard day of training or flying might cause.

Tonight though, that wasn't why he was asking. "No, not like that. Just... " Now that he'd started this he realized there was no good way to ask for what he wanted. "I mean, like, like a sexy massage."

You chuckled, you looked confused, but you gave him a smile. "Jake, what are you talking about?" As soon as the words left your mouth realization dawned on you, "Ohhh..." You looked him over carefully, "You mean like rub your back before we have sex?"

Jake dropped his head back against the couch, "Know what, don't worry about it, it was just a dumb idea anyway."

"What? No, babe" You scooted over to his side of the couch, "I think I'm just not understanding what you mean."

"Promise not to make fun of me?"

"I mean... no more than normal." You laughed but Jake accepted that answer with a sideways glance.

"So, I got a little jealous after leaving your work today, and then the more I thought about it..."

"Jake, you know when it comes to clients..."

"I know babe, that doesn't meen I don't...can't get Jealous." You both shared a knowing look, Jake was territorial to say the least. "Anyway I had a few drinks with the guys and I started thinking about something else..." When you didn't respond Jake took a deep breath and continued, "I mean like a happy ending kind of massage."

Now it was obvious you understood what he meant this time. You sat there, legs crossed on the couch next to him, and contemplated a few things. "Does that turn you on? Thinking about that."

"Apparently." Jake felt a little embarrassed and couldn't meet your eye.

"Since when?"

"I don't know, about 12:45 this afternoon."

That made her laugh a little, "Do you mean like role play? Or..."

Jake looked at her finally, "No, not like that. I just..." He looked at her hands and lost his train of thought.

"Jake," You brought his attention back and moved closer to him on the couch, now sitting on your knees with your elbow braced against the back of the seat. "You know how sometimes in bed... my brain kind of short circuts and I need something but can't get it out." When he continued to stare at the celining but nodded, you continued, "You make me slow down and take a minute, until I can tell you what I want." His eyes dart to yours and he nods again. "This is a time where you need to slow down and tell me what you want."

He sighed deeply and stared back at the football game, "It sounds stupid now that I'm trying to say it out loud."

You smiled, "I said the exact same thing the night I came back from my birthday party." You smirked when that brought his attention back, you could see him biting the inside of his cheek, "Remember how drunk and silly I sounded trying to explain to you what I wanted? Y'know the thing with the scarves and your..."

"Oh I remember." Jakes smirk doubled, relishing the tinge of pink in your cheeks.

"Well, that ended up not being stupid at all did it?" You asked as you moved to straddle his lap.

His hands grabbing your hips on reflex alone he grinned, "Definitly not stupid."

Your weight settled on his thighs you grinned back, "Now it's your turn, so spill."

~~~

Jake leaned against the door to your bedroom as he watched you change for bed. Nervous as he may be he still smirked to himself knowing full well if everything went well, you wouldn't need clothes to sleep in. "You're sure this isn't…" He momentarily trailed off as you shimmied out of your cut offs and did not replace them. "This isn't, like demeaning or objectifying or like, crossing some sort of boundary?"

You laughed and gave him a big bright smile as you crossed your bedroom to where he stood. "You know how I really," You ran your hands up his chest to wrap around his neck, "Really like when you come home in your uniform and let me… help you get undressed?"

He grinned and set his hands on your hips, "I do."

"Well, I think it's kinda like that." You scratched your nails over the back of his neck and smiled up at him.

Jake leaned down to kiss you, "You're amazing, y'know that right?"

"Mhmm," You grinned into the kiss and then pulled back the slightest bit, "Now, take your clothes off and get on the bed."

With a hint of a groan he pulled away, already turned on, "Yes ma'am."

When you came back from the bathroom with Jake's favorite lotion, which he denied to the bitter end, you found him face down in the middle of your bed, naked and tense. You couldn't help but giggle to yourself as you approached, "You look a little tense there lieutenant."

"Don't tease me darlin'." Jake grumbled into the pillow, arms folded beneath him.

As you climbed onto the bed and straddled his lower back, just as you normally did when you gave him a backrub, the thought occured to you that this was, actually, very different. Lotion in your hands you admired the expanse of muscle before you. "Thought that's what you wanted." You ignored his warning as you made the first firm stroke over his back, a palm on either side of his spine.

The muscles under your hands shivered and flexed and Hangman let out a groan, "Your hands are amazing."

Your cheeks flushed, you bit your lip as you worked over his lower back, up along his spine to his shoulders. You scooted back enough that you could dig your thumbs into the divots at the base of his spine.

Jake was always vocal in bed, but the way he groaned and ground his hips into the mattress emboldened you. You licked your lips and leaned down close, your chest pressed to his back as you whispered in his ear. "Feel good?"

"So fucking good." He groaned, face buried directly into the pillow, hips grinding more as you kissed and mouthed at his neck while your hands stroked over his bulging biceps.

How had you never done this before?

Bracing you hands against his shoulders you pushed yourself back up to a sitting position and began to work your way down his back. When you paused for more lotion you couldn't help but enjoy the way he fidgeted beneath you. LIke he was chasing after your hands, after your touch. You scooted back over his thighs and bit your lip, fighting back a grin as you swept your hands up his sides, strong fingers curling into his ribs and raking their way down over his waist and hips.

You continued down until you were at the backs of his thighs and then reversed direction and stroked over each of his glutes. His hips bucked into the mattress even as his muscles clenched under your touch, "Not that kind of massage darlin'."

You giggled as you drug your nails down over the small of his back and then over each ass cheek, "Maybe some other time."

Again, his hips rolled beneath you, but this time he chuckled. His voice muffled by the pillow he responded, "We'll see."

You continued to knead your way up his back so you could kiss and nip along his neck and shoulders, sucked his earlobe between your lips as moved one hand to stroke up and down the back of his neck before carding your fingers into his hair and massaging his scalp. While he continued to moan in to the pillow and writhe beneath you you smiled and whispered, "Roll over for me baby."

He moved so fast he nearly tipped you over.

You giggled as he steadied you by the hips only for you to swat his hands away, "No, touching."

Jake rolled his eyes, but let his hands settle plam down on the comforter. You purposefully moved to settle yourself over his lower abs, barely brushing his erection as you moved. He let out a long breath like it would help him keep his composure as your hands sarted back into his shoulders only from the front this time. Your thumbs tracing along his collar bone several times before you lifted one arm.

You moved it so his hand would rest on your shoulder as you massaged the muscles of his foream, his biceps and triceps and then back in long languid movements. You couldn't help but hum approvingly as the hand at you shoulder lazily moved to grip the back of you neck. Jakes thumb stroking over your pulse point in time with your massage.

You repeated the same with his other arm, your resolve to drag this out chipped slightly as he again took a gentle hold of your neck and caressed your skyrocketing pulse with the pad of a rough thumb.

"What happened to no touchin'?" Jake teased, his cocky tone a stark contrast to the half lidded eyes he gazed up at you with. Biting your lip you leaned forward, down, into the pressure of his thumb. His grip on your throat shiffting automatically as he held you.

After a brush of your lips over his, and the slight increase in pressure around your throat, you whispered, "Did I say that?"

He chuckled, squeezed your throat a little tighter as he kissed you, "You sure did."

"Oops." You winked at him as you easily broke his grip on your throat to pin his hand above his head.

Jake took the hint and brought his other up to join it, folding his hands behind his head and cursing under his breath when your hands began to work over his pecs. His hips jerked each time your thumbs would swipe over one of his erect nipples. "Fuck baby." His eyes were closed and the muscles under your hands flexed and tightened.

You couldn't help but lean down and lick over one and then suck, like he so often did to you. "Jesus, fuck..." A hand dug into your hair and clamped your mouth in place for a moment, urging you to continue licking and sucking at his nipple, biting it not so gently with your teeth before soothing the sting away with your tongue.

Then he was dragging you back up his body for a kiss. "No touching, remember?" You mumbled into his mouth.

He nearly growled at you in return, "I should have specified sweetheart, happy ending for me means I cum in your perfect, tight little pussy. Not all over my stomach." He kissed you again, his tongue sweeping through your mouth, his grip on your hair keeping your face smashed against his.

A giggle escaped, "This turning you on that much baby?" You pushed aside to kiss and lick your way down his neck, "I'm not even halfway done yet."

Jake spit out another, "Jesus Christ." As you licked over his opposite nipple and then began to trace the lines of his abs with your thumbs. You pushed back, over his cock, the feel of it hot and hard and oh so ready for you tempting, but you slid further, ignoring the way the his entire body rolled as you did so. His hand in your hair tightened quickly and then relaxed, like he caught himself.

You traded your thumbs for your tongue as you began to lick at the planes of his six pack, earning more cursing and another roll of his hips that had his cock pressing against your stomach. In response you moved to straddle one of his thighs and ground down against it, long and slow. Your wetness spreading over it as you finally, truly crossed over that line to make this way more than just a massage.

"Fuck, you're so damn wet darlin', I can feel it." His thigh flexed beneath you and his abs fluttered under your lips. He was not wrong, you were soaked, drenched, leaving a smear of arousal over his thigh. The coarse hair and thick muscle of it doing terrible things to your own self control.

"This the kind of massage you wanted Lieutenant?" Your own voice was breathy as you had made it to nip and kiss at his hip bone, your hips 'massaging' his thigh faster and harder.

"Yes, yeah baby, your hands," Which were currently occupied dragging your nails lighlty down his chest over and over, "Your mouth, fuck baby your pussy feels so good rubbin' on me like that." He thrust up against you again, chasing some sort of friction, some form of relief. His hands moved to the shoulders of your t-shirt. His t-shirt. "Take this shit off."

He drug the fabric off your body with no assistance from you and groaned when you shifted enough to let his cock brush against the soft, bare skin of your breast. WIth a long, wide lick you traced one side of the sharp cut v at his lower abdomen and he thrust against you again. When you moved, scrambled to settle on his other thigh and begin to give it the same treatment, you moved and licked another path up the opposite side of the v and Jake lifted his thigih slightly to add pressure.

"Need you to touch me darlin'." It almost sounded like there was a please at the end of that sentence that he couldn't quite bring himself to say outloud.

You smiled against his hp, "I am touching you babe." You registered the bolt of pleasure that shot through you before you really realized that it came from the harsh slap Hangman had laid across your ass.

You moaned and bucked forward, his thigh chasing you and causing you to hump aginst it even harder. "Smartass." He grumbled even as both hands settled on your ass to squeeze and caress the sting away. "Touch me."

The moan escaped without your permission and you realized you were going to cum. You were well and truly humping his thigh, riding it with your thighs spread wide and your clit rubbing over the muscle. "Oh shit, Jake, fuck..."

He realized too, one hand moving to grab yours and guiding you to his balls, "Go ahead sweetheart, cum for me, be a good girl and cum for me," His larger hand encouraged you to squeeze his balls, massage them the way he liked.

"You're supposed to...' A tremor cut your words off as the knot spun and spun low in your gut.

Jake chuckled, strangled as it was, "It's okay, you first then you can finish my massage, go ahead darlin', go ahead, that's right." He continued to encourage you as you chased your orgasm, riding his leg harder and faster, your grip on his balls tightening as the pleasure crashed into you.

Jakes free hand stroked over your back as you came down, soft and soothing even as his cock twitched with need in front of you.

"Jake..."

He smirked, "C'mere baby girl." He used the hand at your back to pull you up into a kiss while his other hand continued to hold yours around his balls. His fingers working with yours to roll and tug at them. Jake kissed you like he ate you out, his mouth wide and shoving his tongue deep, licking his way into every opening until you were even more of a moaning mess. "Need a minute?" He asked, voice a whisper when he finally pulled back.

You gave him a hallf giddy, hafl shy smile, "Why is this so hot?"

His smile grew, "I don't know, but I love that it got you off to baby." He kissed you again.

"Now it's your turn." You returned the kiss, "In this new fantasy of yours, how do I finish your little massage?" J

ake groaned, "Can I take back what I said earlier? About the roll play thing?" His smile was wide and happy but his green eyes were dark, pupils blown wide.

"Next time." You picked his lips.

He nodded, "Okay." He dropped his head back into the pillows and rolled his hips experimentlaly, smirking again when you shivered, "Want that wrecked little pussy to massage my cock baby. Grind on it like you did my leg, rub it real nice and firm. Want you to get off on it."

You bit your lip and hummed, slipped your hand away from his and his balls to drag a light finger up the length of him. "Thought you wanted to come inside me?"

"Oh, I'm gonna." He chuckled, deep and low in his chest, "You let me worry about that."

All you could do was whine in anticipation as you settled in place, your thighs wide over his hips as you lined up the hadrness of his cock between your lower lips and began to move. You were so sensitive and so wet that every inch of him was nearly too much. Forget that he wasn't even inside you.

All you were doing was rocking your hps, guiding your still trembling pussy from the base to the tip, pressing his cock between the two of you and biting your lip as the familiar sensation sitrred to life within you. You moved your hands to his torso, doing your best to move them like you had before. Slow, firm steady strokes meant to losen the muscle and drive him crazy at the same time.

Then Hangman began to match the motion of your hips with his own. An image flashed through your mind as his hips bucked up into yours, his abs contraciting under your touch with each snap of his hips. The idea of Jake on your table at work, the dim lights, the music, the incense and his skin warm and slick with oil. Your eyes fell closed. He would look so strained, like he was fighting to keep his composure, his control. He would have to keep quiet, you both would or someone would hear you.

It would be so unprofessional, but so hot. As a shiver skittered up your spine you leaned down, your hands sliding over his abs, brushing his nipples on the way up his hard chest. You placed your lips against his ear and tossed your earlier statement out the window. "I'm so embarrassed Lieutenant Seresin." You let out a shaky breath that was only slightly played up, "I don't..." You rocked your hips down hard, "I don't do this with clients, I don't know what came over me, you just... you just look so good, feel so good..."

"Holy fuck." Jakes hands dug into your hips and drug you down over his cock, hard. He swallowed audibly, "Oh sweetheart..." He stretched beneath you, fighting off a wave of pleasure, "Don't be embarrassed." He turned his head so he could mouth at your neck, "Can't help myself when you touch me, you make me so hard, so horny. You're such a good girl I know you don't do this for anyone but me do you?"

"Just you." Your hips stuttered and you wrapped your arms around his neck, "Nobdoy else, just you."

Jake growled, "You only get naked for me don't you?" He was thrusting up into in earnest now, sliding you back and forth over his cock, the head catching against your clit every so often causing you to whine. "You only touch me like this. You only get this needy for me."

"Fuck, yes just for you. I can't help it." "Neither can I sweeheart, can I have that pussy sweetheart? Your mouth feels so good, your hands feel so good, want to feel what that pussy can do."

You fought to keep up the act, "I shouldn't..."

His grip on you tightened, "Just for me darlin', it can be our little secret."

For whatever reason that gets you, so you push yourself up as much as you can and take him in your hand. Trying not to feel silly you stroke the length of him, "It's so big, and hard, it does look like it hurts."

You catch him grin and you know that even though he's nearly out of his mind with how bad he wants to fuck you, the line is cheesy and such a cheap porno thing to say but he loves it. "It hurts so bad baby, make it feel better for me, please sweetheart"

As soon as you nod he as you impaled on his cock and begins fucking up into you. The act was gone completely as he drags you down into an obscene kiss, "You're so fucking good to me baby." His hips are snapping into yours so hard and so fast, that he has to lock his arms around you to keep you in place, "You playing it up for me?"

You nod into his neck, words a mix of strgangled moans and syllables, "It, oh fuck Jake, I kind of like it."

"Damn baby," He grunts as he gives in and rolls you to your back, slamming into you, "Just for me? Just for me, right?"

Your eyes roll back in your head with the way his body and his words are overwhelming you, "Only you Jake, only you, only you..." Your mind shorts out, unable to say anything else as your nails dig into the muscles of his back, warm and smooth where you had stroked over them early, only now to claw deep red welts into him as you cum again with a straingled moan.

Jake has his face inches from yours, watching as you bounce and writhe beneath him and as your pussy clenches down on his cock and he feels the first wave of your orgasm hit he burries himelf deep and cries out your name. Over and over again between grunts and groans as he empties himself into you.

You can see the marks on his back from your spot in bed, your heart just now starting to slow, no longer pounding in your ears. You watch him at the sink where he rinises himself off quickly with the tap water as it warms. Not for the first time you wonder just how the fuck he is so good looking. Then when he catches you looking, his eyes dancing and his grin cocky but his overall expression goofy and satisfied you wonder how the fuck he is so in love with you. Jake gives you a wink as he tests the water and then dunks a rag under it.

When he comes back into the room to clean you up, it's a struggle to keep your eyes open as he works the rag over you. He takes longer than he needs, wiping down places where he never spilled a drop, just for the excuse to return a little bit of the favor. The hot towel and pressure of his hand soothing as it stroked over your hips and thighs before he dipped it between your legs.

With your eyes closed the kiss he drops against the dip of your hip makes you jump and he huffs out a warm laugh that slides over your skin.

"What?" You ask, voice barely a whisper.

"Just thinkin' how God damn lucky I am." He places another kiss an inch over. Not sexual in anyway, only adoring.

You chuckle, "I had just been thinking the same thing." You comb a hand through his already disheveled, golden hair and smile. "You're so lucky."

He laughs and nips at your hip bone before soothing it with a kiss. Then he's off the bed and back to the bathroom. Then the room is dark and the bed dips as he crawls in beside you. "Were you really…" His voice is just shy of steady, "Were you really thinkin' about it?"

You schoot back, smiling as he wraps his arms tighter, "Yeah…" You breath deep, "Just kind of, came over me."

Jake nodded behind you and placed a kiss to the side of your neck, "I wouldn't ever ask you to do this outside of the bedroom. You know that right?"

THe smile on your face widens, "I know Jake. I wouldn't mind doing it for your again, just so you know."

He hums, obviously pleased. "Next time you could call me Commander Seresin."

"Not until your promotion is official flyboy." You tease him, shifting your ass back against him as well.

He laughs again, deep and sincere and smooths a hand down your side to keep your hips close. "You didn't mind calling me Admiral when I put on my dress whites and tied you to the bed." He teased, nipping at the shell of your ear, "Sounded so pretty, all drunk and horny, calling me Sir and asking me to put a baby in you…"

You elbowed him hard in the ribs, "Well, the next time I call you Admiral OR ask you to… do that, there better be a Mrs. Seresin to go with it."

Jake turned you to face him and kissed you, slow and deep. "Don't tease me darlin'."

"I would never." You kiss him back, grinning into it until you pull back, "Never about that."

He kisses you again, "Admiral and Mrs. Seresin… is it bad i'm gettin' hard just thinkin' about it."

You shove him onto his back with a laugh, "You realize we'll be like.. what? In our fifties, at least."

His smile was wide and his dimples showed even in the dark of your bedroom. "If we hurry and get those babies on the way, they'd be out of the house by then…"

"We are not havin' babies until you are on permanent shore duty Hangman, you hear me."

"So, what you're sayin' is; I've got a few more years to get all the kinky shit out of my system?" He licked his lips and gave you a look.

"And to sort out that jealous boyfirend thing." You chided him.

"Darlin'," He pulled you down into a kiss, "You let me give you my last name, I won't have nothin' to be jealous of."

You kissed him again, nipped at his bottom lip as you pulled back and settled your head onto his chest. His arms coming around you again made you sigh in contentment.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!

#jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #top gun maverick #hangman #top gun hangman #glen powell

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frvnkcastles · 4 months ago

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A MAN WITH A BLACK HEART OF GOLD ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When there’s a death in the neighborhood, you call Frank for comfort and protection.

Warnings: Mentions of death, anxiety, fluff mostly!

Word count: 2.1k

Author’s note: Taking a quick break from requests for this little thing I whipped up after experiencing this very thing myself. A dead body was found in my neighborhood and it freaked me out, but thankfully it was updated on the news that a crime wasn’t involved. Still, I wouldn’t mind if I had Frank next to me tonight!

The last thing you expected coming home from getting the groceries for next week was a bunch of police cars and an ambulance on your street. The sight instantly made you nervous, your grip on the bag of food tightening as you walked through the crowd to get to your door. The police were swarmed by the building across the street, giving you access to your own home, but before you made your way inside, your neighbor caught your eye.

”What’s going on?” you queried with both curiosity and dread. You knew there was plenty of crime in the city — if not through reading the news, then through knowing Frank. You had befriended the Punisher himself a few weeks back, and he had already taught you a lot about staying safe and protected, but even with everything he had shared with you, you felt uneasy that something had happened so close to your doorstep. You were used to hearing about what went down at night from him, but right now, it was barely evening and whatever had happened, it was right across the street from you.

”Apparently they found a dead body in one of the apartments”, your neighbor whispered, and with shock punching you in the gut, you swallowed. ”They won’t say what happened, though. Maybe it was natural causes”, she continued, and weakly, you nodded. Maybe she was right. But you had heard enough from Frank to know that there was some seriously fucked up stuff happening in your city, and it made you sick to think something like that had happened in your neighborhood.

You headed inside, working completely on autopilot as you got in your apartment and started unloading the groceries. You enjoyed every second you spent with Frank, in fact, you had gotten quite attached to him, but right now, you regretted ever listening to his haunting tales of criminals and crooks. All it did was make you overthink, your brain going in evil loops as you wondered if there was a murderer on the loose — maybe a serial killer, even? Maybe he was targeting people in your area. Maybe you were next.

You spent the evening refreshing the website of the local news, waiting for something to pop up. When it finally did, all the article said was that a corpse had been discovered and the police was still investigating whether or not it had been a crime. You gnawed on your nails anxiously. How hard could it be to tell if someone had murdered them? Even you knew there would have to be signs of a break-in or a struggle or something. Or maybe you had just watched too much TV.

Either way, it was driving you mad. And you knew what could make you feel better — calling Frank. You just didn’t know if you were in the stage of your relationship where it would be okay to do. Your encounters tended to be initiated by him, as he would either show up on your doorstep or behind your window unannounced, or you’d run into him at a coffee shop or a diner in a way that you suspected wasn’t random. You knew he was a busy man, and the last thing you wanted was to scare him off by being clingy, or worst case scenario, to endanger his life by calling him at the wrong time.

But it was Frank. Frank, who was always so good to you, Frank, who was way more talented at giving support and comfort than he gave himself credit for, Frank, who never judged or laughed at you if it wasn’t meant to be laughed at. God, it was no wonder you were already falling for him, when he was such a perfect gentleman every time you saw him.

A little embarrassed but hopeful that he’d be understanding, you decided to call him. You paced back and forth in your apartment while the phone rang, your nail between your teeth and your feet shuffling anxiously. It felt kind of awkward, too trivial to actually be worth Frank’s time, but the fear of what had happened beat the shame in you. You were growing more terrified by the minute, and you knew it was something only he could alleviate.

”Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?” Frank’s voice hit you through the phone, and gulping at the thickness of his voice, you shook yourself out of the daze you had fallen into while waiting for him to pick up.

”Hi, Frank. This is kinda embarrassing, but, uh… if you have the time—I understand if you don’t, would you maybe mind visiting? And… maybe even spending the night? The police found a dead body across the street and I’m just a little freaked out”, you rambled, your nerves getting the best of you, but Frank listened patiently instead of interrupting you.

For a beat, he was silent, and it was enough time for you to start wondering if you had made a mistake calling him. But finally, he spoke up. ”Yeah, darlin’, I’ll be there. Hang on f’me, yeah?” he answered, and with a weight rolling off of your chest, you sighed.

”Thank you, Frank.” You hung up the phone and threw yourself onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as you groaned. This was very much not what you had expected from your night, but maybe, it was a blessing in disguise. After all, you were officially signed up for some more time in Frank’s company, and the mere thought got you to smile to yourself. He had stolen your heart so effortlessly, it was ridiculous.

You didn’t know when to expect him, as you obviously couldn’t make him drop everything just for you, but when it started to get dark, you grew anxious again. He was taking his sweet time and being alone in the apartment made you uncomfortable, with every sound from outside your little bubble making you alert.

Finally, though, there was a knock on your door, and you jumped with your hand on your chest. You tiptoed to the front door and stole a glimpse through the peephole just to be safe, feeling calmer when you saw Frank standing there with his head hung low and his hands folded in front of him. You opened the door, and despite the worry inside your soul, the sight of him brought a smile on your face. He looked too good to be true, his sleeves rolled up and his dark hair covered in rain droplets.

”Sorry it took me a while. I made a pitstop”, he announced, gesturing at the bag in his hands. He walked inside, gently kicking the door shut behind him, and leaning down to briefly kiss your cheek before making his way to the kitchen. The casual gesture made your face hot and your heart skip a beat, but you followed him to the kitchen without commenting on it.

”What’s all this?” you asked as he began taking things out of the bag — chips, food containers, a bottle of beer for him and your favorite soda for you.

”Figured you ain’t gonna be able to sleep, anyway. We might as well make a night out of it. Watch a movie or somethin’, whatever you want”, he shrugged like it was the most normal thing ever for him to show up with everything thought of. You felt giddy, unable to believe he would do all this for you, and you did the only thing you could think of and stepped in to hug him.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, looking down at your face, painted with all kinds of heavy emotions. ”You must have been real scared, huh?” he muttered, and shyly, you nodded. ”It’s aight. ’M here now and I’mma make sure you’re safe”, Frank reassured you, just his words enough to console you. All it took was his presence to make you feel protected, and you appreciated it deeply.

”If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t heard of anythin’ goin’ down over here and I’m always on top of these things. I’m sure it was just a one-time thing”, he went on, and nodding, you pulled back from him and grabbed the soda can from the counter.

”I hope so. I kind of just wanna think about something else, so… how about that movie?” you suggested, drawing a sip from your drink.

Frank agreed quickly, and you two huddled up on your couch with the food and the snacks. Time passed in a blink of an eye, with midnight rolling around by the time you were finished with the first movie, but as Frank had suspected, you weren’t exactly eager to go to sleep. Sleeping made you vulnerable, and it scared you — so, you watched another movie.

You ended up migrating from your end of the couch to Frank’s arms. Totally platonic, you told yourself. He was sweet with you, surprisingly affectionate too, but you weren’t sure he felt the same way that you did. At least, you didn’t think he was ready to. He hadn’t told you everything, but you had read the news enough to know what he had gone through and what he had lost, so you doubted he was looking for a relationship. It stung, you had to admit that much, but you found a small consolation in the fact that it wasn’t anything personal.

A yawn slipped from you, and Frank noticed, perceptive as always. ”You should get some rest, sweetheart”, he pointed out, and begrudgingly, you supposed he was right.

”I don’t mean to push but… will you stay in the bed with me?” you asked carefully, hoping you weren’t crossing a boundary, but he didn’t seem to have any hesitation regarding the matter.

”Sure thing.”

With that, he helped you up from the couch, and you went ahead with your nightly routine of washing your face, brushing your teeth and changing into your PJs. When you stepped into the bedroom, Frank was already lying on your bed, his arms behind his head as he waited for you. Seeing him like that, it made your chest tighten and your stomach do a backflip. You had imagined this exact situation countless times, though you suspected your daydreams ended very differently than what reality had in store for you.

You settled under the covers, sighing deeply as you rubbed your tired eyes and felt the stress of the day weigh you down. Frank observed you closely, a small smile on his lips, and it made you chuckle nervously.

”What?” you questioned, earning a shrug from him.

”You just look real pretty, ’s all”, he revealed, and with your eyes widening, you stared at him, trying to find any hint of joke on his face. There was none.

”Thanks, Frankie”, you replied sheepishly, tucking your hair behind your ear. ”And thanks for the food and for staying with me. I really appreciate it”, you added, and with a soft nod, he dropped his hands to his lap and shifted deeper into the mattress.

”I know it ain’t a permanent solution, but I want ya to know I’mma keep an eye on this place. I’ll make sure nothin’ happens to you”, he promised, and surprised, you lifted yourself up to rest on your elbow, your gaze meeting his.

”You’d do that?” you spoke in disbelief, and with a completely serious look, he nodded once again.

”Course, I would, sweetheart. I never wanna see you in harm’s way. I know this is still pretty new, but I, uh, I like you”, he confessed, his voice almost nervous. You couldn’t imagine him ever being nervous, but as you both sat in his admission, the air growing hot between you, that was exactly how he felt.

Feeling impulsive, you closed the space between you and kissed him. He melted into it immediately, his big hand reaching up to cradle your face, his lips moving against yours in a way that was thrilling and enchanting. He took your breath away, kissing you with passion but sweetness, and it was even better than you had imagined.

Breathless, you broke the kiss, and he dropped his forehead to yours. ”I like you, too”, you returned the favor, and breaking into a grin, Frank kissed you again, shorter this time but equally delicious.

In hindsight, you were beyond glad you had called him, and he felt the same way. And for you, he was going to get to the bottom of what had happened.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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imaginespazzi · 9 months ago

Text

Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you

dude

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers

wow

fuck you

just landed

thought you might like to know

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess

September 2021

dude enough okay

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you

November 2021

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm

idk why i’m trying again

maybe i should block you

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige

merry christmas i guess

March 2022

i misz you

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich

pkese pick up

ignore that

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you

wait

i don’t need to tell you that

you already ignore it all anyways

August 2022

i heard about the acl

i’m sorry

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm

***

September 2022

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more.

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed.

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake.

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend.

“And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly.

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly.

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy.

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else. You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod.

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it.

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so, “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest.

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm.

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.”

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall.

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free.

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart.

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it.

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue.

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

***

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet.

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer.

“You wanna see my dorm?”

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice.

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack.

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile.

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things.

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts.

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin.

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it.

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force.

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having.

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself.

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat.

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy.

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour.

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other.

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus.

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk.

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes.

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.”

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that.

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together.

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts.

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard.

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking.

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane.

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously, “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches.

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid.

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost.

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,” Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be.

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps.

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on.

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears.

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back.

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore.

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need.

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something. It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi.

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step.

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile.

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her.

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.”

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen.

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her.

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that.

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?”

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her.

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away.

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again.

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?”

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch.

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people.

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige.

“You having fun?”

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch.

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface.

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together.

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste.

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths.

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety.

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back.

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall.

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that.

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly.

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable.

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing.

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed.

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it.

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.”

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it.

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear.

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most.

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck.

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s.

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up.

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance.

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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